


brick, as far as the eye can see

by sotheysay



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, I think?, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, about everything, reader is angry and salty, reader needs to calm down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 46,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25445212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sotheysay/pseuds/sotheysay
Summary: [Pride goeth before the fall.]Disgraced from having the shortest ever recorded reign as Champion in your region, you moved to Galar, intending to never battle seriously again. But even if you did, it definitely wouldn’t be because you started working under a gym leader, of all things, right?orA story in which the reader's ego meets its match.
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Reader
Comments: 218
Kudos: 319





	1. [One; Red was your favorite color.]

This couldn’t be happening. 

_In a spectacular comeback, the challenger has defeated our champion!_

It wasn’t real. 

_This is unprecedented, folks! Never in our regions history have we had a champion be usurped in only two years!_

This snot-nosed brat, grinning in front of you? She didn’t know a damn thing about hard work. She didn’t have a vision, not like you. How would the region go on without you? You’d given up everything for this. They couldn’t—This—This wasn’t possible. 

_Give it up for your new champion—_

Oh, but it was possible, it was real, and it happened all those years ago. 

You blinked, realizing a scowl had become etched upon your face in your reminiscing. Not a good look in front of your boss, who already had a pretty ugly looking face even when it was happy. He was never happy because of you, obviously. 

“You’re not even listening, are you?” he said, too tired to even yell anymore. He had been yelling for a while now, waving his hands around like an overzealous puppet, spewing drops of spit all over the counter. Not very hygienic of him. He buried his face in his hands before rubbing his temples. “People warned me about you. But I didn’t listen. And you know what? They were right, and I regret every hour you came in here. I really tried. Don’t say I never tried. Have you even rung up a single customer? Look at them, they’re terrified of approaching you.”

He waved over to the entrance, where customers shifted in their seats, listening in on your public berating. You made an exaggerated turn of the head towards them, narrowing your eyes and feeling an amount of satisfaction at the way they tried to pretend they hadn’t been staring, fiddling with their thumbs and turning red in the face. 

“Don’t come back tomorrow.”

Ah, the words you had been looking forward to all day. You were surprised the boss had put up with you for so long. A hand was put on your shoulder as you swung up from your seat, untying your apron. Despite himself, his brow was quirked up in what you assumed was misplaced concern. It was gross how nice he was.

“Listen. You’re young. There’s still time. You don’t have to live like this. Get your life together. A job, friends, a partner, whatever. I don’t know what happened, but—”

“If you don’t know what happened, then don’t pretend like you do,” you said, and the boss’s hand instinctively retracted from the offense. You rubbed the area that he’d touched you, as if to will away the sensation.

As you sauntered past the tables of people infinitely more successful than you, of people with careers and aspirations and ups and downs, you swore you could hear snickers. But you didn’t give them the satisfaction of turning around. Once a door closed, you didn’t open it again. 

—

The only reason you could afford such a flagrant disregard towards part-time jobs that paid you too little was because of the battle cafe. Those chumps saw you coming in maybe once, twice, or even three times per week for you to loot them of their prize money and they couldn’t do a thing to stop you. 

You didn’t bother coming more often, because what was the point? They had the same frilly pokemon and waitstaff that clearly didn’t know the first thing about battling. A single pokemon was all you needed. 

But on that particular day, after having been let go (okay, let’s face it, you were fired) from your job, you noticed something of interest. There was a large poster plastered onto the wall replacing the spot of the usual advertisement about cakes or parfaits or whatever dessert you couldn’t afford. In bold yellow lettering was written— _Hammerlocke Stadium Wants YOU!_

You were skeptical at first; it was awfully suspicious for a gym to publicly announce that they were looking for fresh hires, especially when the gym challenge itself was already at its halfway point. 

Personally, you would’ve never allowed for something so gaudy. If you really wanted qualified hires—Agh, there you went again, pretending you still did shit that mattered. 

Then you remembered just who ran the Hammerlocke Gym. Some overly-emotional hotshot who couldn’t beat the champion when he was still the champion nor the one that came after. Between that and the influx of pictures you were accosted with every time you so much as opened any social media, you could believe it was real. At any rate, if it were fake, it would’ve been taken down real quick, given how in your face the advertisement was. Now that you bothered to get a closer look, you noticed it was even signed in the corner. 

How nice.

The thought of having to look at this poster every time you needed money gave you a preemptive headache. Without much thought, you entered the cafe, ignoring the pleasant (and very much rehearsed) greetings of the waitstaff and tore down the poster, ripping it at the corners where it had been taped onto the glass. Surprisingly, no one came over to chastise you, even as you crumpled the thing in your hands. It was amazing what a little confidence could do. 

“You trying for the position?” one of the friendlier employees asked before you could toss the poster in the trash, leaning across the counter rather conspiratorially. He looked around to check if anyone was listening. When he determined that this was not the case, he continued, “Between you and me, I think it was a bit of a good thing. I mean, if you’re the one battling, then why even bother with a competition?”

Your brow furrowed as you stepped back, examining the young man’s expression. Who the hell was he? From how friendly he was being to you, it was definitely a new hire.

“I’m a huge fan,” he said, still whispering. “If it’s not a bother, could I get—”

“No,” you said, feeling your mouth fill up with something bitter, your usual composure evaporating under his expectant gaze. The crumpled ball in your hand made a small crunch with the tightening of your fist. Feeling a little bad for telling the guy off, you added, “It’s not worth much, anyway.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but from the way he straightened up, the manager had entered the periphery and he was back to business. A part of you wanted to leave the establishment lest the man bring up stuff you’d rather not think about. The other part reminded you that starving wasn’t fun. 

But before the battling could truly begin, a distinct ‘ooh’ rang out the room from the other patrons. For a moment you thought you’d been caught for something (it could’ve been any number of things, really), but that alarm was quickly relieved when a particularly zealous fan shrieked out “Raihan! It’s really him!” 

“Yup,” a deep voice chuckled, somehow managing to rise above the chatter despite not being all that loud. “It’s me all right. Oh, you want an autograph? Sweetheart, I’ll do you one better. Here, let’s take a selfie, shall we?”

Did you dare turn around and catch a glimpse of the man in person? 

Turns out, you didn’t even have to make the choice. You could feel the guy’s presence as he walked over to the counter. 

“Hey there Richie, how’s the job?” Raihan said, and you could make out the two fist bumping from the corner of your vision. You turned around, intent not to see any more of the conversation play out. “I noticed the poster wasn’t up anymore. Something happen?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Richie said, slapping the counter. “This trainer here took it!”

“Her?”

You could feel the gaze of everyone shift to you as Raihan turned around. You pretended not to hear and continued on your way, purposefully keeping your slow pace to further drive home the act, but to no avail. For the second time that day, a hand snaked its way to your shoulder. This time, you didn’t have the patience to let it stay. You brushed it off with a hand, cradling your shoulder for a moment before letting it drop back to your side. 

You imagined Raihan’s face flashing with something akin to offense, but if you knew anything about the guy, it was that he would never do anything less than smile in front of a crowd. 

Richie gave you a wink, mouthing under his breath, _‘Your secret’s safe with me’._

“You need something?” you asked, too casually. On a better day, you might’ve tried to look a little more excited, but you were not in the mood to act. You already felt you were trying too hard. 

“Heard you had something to do with the poster being taken down. You wanted an autograph that much?”

You withheld the urge to let out a sigh, at last having the energy to stare him down. His face was as self-satisfied as his voice, smirk evident even in his neutral expression. His eyes were too blue for your liking, and it felt like you might drown in them. Yup, this guy was not someone you wanted to be around.

Still, to admit to the crowd you had simply wanted to throw away the poster at the next given opportunity was a death sentence. It wasn’t so much the negative perception of the public that dissuaded you than it was the hassle that would come immediately after. Fans could be scary, you knew from experience. 

“I was interested in the ad, is all,” you lied through your teeth, even managing to quirk your mouth up a bit in what a person could possibly perceive as a smile. Maybe. But despite how well you were doing, you couldn’t help but add in a snarky, “Is that a problem?”

“Interesting,” Raihan said. You knew he probably didn’t buy it, but as long as you could fool the crowd, that was enough. 

“She’s an amazing trainer,” Richie cut in before you could make your escape. You didn’t even care about the money anymore, you just wanted to nap the day off. “Talk to any of the staff, they even talk about her between shifts!”

If this Richie guy had been here for anything longer than a week, he’d have figured out by now that this was not a good thing. 

“Is that so?” Raihan whistled, rolling his head back as if to think. When it came back down he was smiling again. “If Richie says so, then it must be true. How about the two of us have a little rendezvous at the gym, right now?”

“Of course she will!” Richie said. “You will, won’t you?”

What a leading question. You regretted ever feeling bad for him. He singlehandedly doomed you to faking a job interview and deterring you from the only consistent source of income you had. 

“…sure.”

Before Raihan could nudge you towards the door, you made your way out yourself, waiting for him to wave all his fans goodbye. Even away from the prying eyes, he kept a certain exaggerated air about him. 

“The position isn’t actually to be a gym trainer. It’s for the guide at the start.” The smile of his made you think he took amusement in your apparent mistake. Well unfortunately for him, you had the ability to read small print. You’d already known that, unlike a certain staff member. But he still had the gall to explain further, “You know, the guy who hands out fresh water and tells people that dragons are weak to fairies. The last one went on to work for the new Battle Tower. We just, ah, wanted to get the word out, you know. Remind people we’re here.”

Who was this ‘we’ he was talking about? The League? As far as you saw, he was the only one on the poster. Basically, this was just a kinder way to say this stunt was to boost his public image. Did he even need help with that? The majority of the region was already vying for even a moment of his attention. Which didn’t make any sense to you. He wasn’t even number one. 

“Thrilling stuff,” you said, holding out the balled-up poster and tossing it back to the rightful owner. “Well, whatever. As long as I’m hired.”

“You actually _want_ the job?” Raihan scrunched his nose, though you weren’t sure if it was directed at you or the sorry state of the poster. He tossed it into the nearest trash can once he got the chance. 

“Better than having to deal with that guy again,” you said, referring to Richie. You’d have to try and keep this job until that guy moved on to other things. Seeing how young he was, it was only a matter of time. Young people were always moving onto better things. “You gonna show me the ropes or what?”

—

You’d never actually stepped foot in any of the gyms of Galar. 

The stadium was huge, partially to accommodate for dynamax pokemon and partially for the droves of people the battles attracted. There were lights attached to everything, making it impossible to miss out on the action. It was to be expected, with how battle-crazy the region was, but man. It felt different to see it in real life. 

In stark contrast, the only battles people bothered to watch back home were the champion matches on the rare occasion that someone was hired to record it, and that was only via television. Hardly anyone came in person, probably because there was nowhere to sit. And it wasn’t even like there was a gym season either, so trainers trickled in and out as they pleased. With no schedule, even fans couldn’t tell when the next big battle would occur, and viewership was spotty at best. 

You weren’t pleased to admit it, but this region knew how to appeal to the masses. All the gym leaders had their charm, and from all the merchandise you saw being passed around, they all knew it, too. 

“Like what you see?” Raihan asked, poking his head into the stadium. “Don’t get too excited, though. You’re working in the vault.” 

He pointed all the way to the edge of the castle, wherea large set of doors lay, out of the way from most of the action. 

“This is where the challengers will be battling the gym trainers. Just give them a little pep talk or something before the match and lead them to the stadium afterwards, it ain’t that hard.” He took his phone out of his pocket, taking a few photos of himself against the rays of light filtering through the windows from up above. “The early birds will probably be here in a few weeks. And there you have it. Easiest orientation ever. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to train.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left you alone in the vault. Whatever, it was better this way. You preferred not having to nod along with whatever that guy was saying. He didn’t even bother to ask for your name.

Despite yourself, you found that the more you thought about it, the more riled up you got. At last, you had wound yourself up to a point where you visibly shook before snapping out of the trance. In a wave of embarrassment, you knocked your head against the wall, feeling stupid for letting something so small get to you.

Battling was the only thing you were good at. But look at you now. Reduced to some kid’s caddie. Was Raihan younger than you? Or maybe he was older? Hell if you knew. 

“You couldn’t even call me a trainer at this point…” you muttered, now simply leaning against the wall, the stone cooling your burning forehead. You repeated this fact over and over to yourself, but alas, it was frustrating all the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Would love any and all thoughts on the story, it's fun to read your opinions ^^
> 
> I'm hoping this won't turn out to be as long as my other fic haha... But the pacing is already much snappier, so I'm optimistic.
> 
> And yes reader is absolutely #1 jerk, there is no avoiding it. Who knows, though, maybe by the end you'll end up liking her... Or not, lmao. Guess you'll just have to read and find out :0


	2. [Two; You went to bed before midnight.]

Your first customer, or rather, challenger, was an overexcited boy that looked a lot like the ex-champion. Your fingers instinctively curled at the realization, crushing the water bottle you were supposed to be handing over to him under your grip, as you remembered an article picturing Leon with a cap covering his face. 

_Ten years and counting undefeatable champion of Galar—Dethroned!?_

It had made you roll your eyes when you read the headline. Dramatic, much? But that wasn’t the point. At the bottom was a small row of pictures for all the challengers that participated in the final gym tournament. You thought back, trying to recall his name. Hip? Hoop? Hope? He was the one that lost.

Stuck in a loop between these three equally incorrect names, you barely noticed the drink being snatched out of your hands by the challenger. A quick thanks was shot your way before it was thrown his sports bag, most likely never to be used. At this point in the journey, Fresh Waters were useless, anyway. Couldn’t they at least give the guy a Lemonade? In the end, the guy didn’t even bother to listen to your little spiel about dragon types. 

Despite that, you felt more relieved than anything. The more reason not to do your job, the better. Raihan had been surprised enough when you showed up on time. Little did he know, you absolutely despised tardy people, but you preferred to keep his expectations low. 

Other than showing up, though, you had done nothing of particular note in the positive direction. You had been told off for not paying attention when being talked to on numerous occasions. What could you say, the windows let in a lot of sunlight, and the warmth made you sleepy. 

This attitude of yours only served to put you under the scorn of the gym trainers. There was no open disparaging, but you could see it in the way they addressed you, their chins jutting outward to look down on you despite the fact you were taller than all of them. If you weren’t so determined not to be fired on the first day, you would’ve said something about it. You would’ve challenged them all, just to see their faces drop. 

“Where’s Raihan?” Hip asked, looking around the room as if the guy might reveal that he was hiding behind a tapestry all along. 

“He’s a busy man,” one of the gym trainers said, pushing up her glasses. “No need to worry, this person here will act as our officiant for the match. I take it that you know how to do so?”

“Sure thing,” you said, not pushing yourself off from the leaning position you had against the wall. You could see the gym trainer’s brow twitching, in a subtle show of irritation. You were going to get scolded later, you just knew it. Something about not respecting the history behind ancient architecture. “We’ll start right now if you’re ready.”

“Of course I’m ready!” Hope slapped a pokeball to drive his point home. 

You put on a pair of goggles you found lying around in the stadium the day before, when you’d come to scope out the area. They weren’t yours, but it wasn’t like someone was going to come looking for them, and you didn’t really want to get sand in your eyes if you could help it. And at last it was your turn to work. 

“Then hurry up and start.”

—

Watching other people battle was never your thing. Well, no. You were fine with a good battle. It was never as good as the real thing, of course, but you wouldn’t complain sitting through something like a champion match. It was watching people of mediocre skill that got your eyes rolling. You had seen enough subpar competition in your lifetime, you weren’t all that excited to have to add to the list. 

Commands were slow, the pokemon were sloppy, and most of all, strategy was lacking. All that went down were two people yelling at each other until one of the pokemon died of exhaustion. 

You probably should’ve anticipated that this fact about yourself wouldn’t fix itself coming into the job, but man. 

This was really boring. 

And it only got worse from there—since Hype (why did it feel like you were trailing farther off each time you said his name?) was the first challenger, he was one of the more experienced challengers. 

Not to mention, the people kept going on about dragon types this and dragon types that. What was so great about dragons, anyway? Just because they looked a little cooler, and had a penchant for bat wings, people drooled all over them. 

The only part of the job you were awake for were the moments where you led the challengers from the vault to the stadium, mostly so Raihan wouldn’t think you were slacking off. You made sure you left the place as soon as possible, but you always heard the rumble of the crowd as you stepped out of the building. Not just heard, but felt it, too. 

But as more and more challengers made their way through, you found yourself increasingly hesitant to turn your back on the open doors of the roaring stadium. It was a crowd so large you could hardly imagine it. But you didn’t have to imagine a thing, when it was right there. By the end of the day, your willpower, which admittedly there was not much of, had run short. 

You could tell from the orange streaking the sky that the next battle was likely going to be the last for the day. The challenger, compared to his competition, wasn’t the worst. If there was a time to be sneaking off into the crowd, there wasn’t much reason it shouldn’t have been then. You probably should’ve hesitated more at the door. If you had any integrity, you would’ve. 

Ah, whatever. You’d already checked the vault, and it was already empty of the other gym trainers. They were probably congratulating themselves on getting through the first round of challengers. You stepped inside without much guilt. 

The lights nearly blinded you from their intensity, and you had to cover your eyes before getting used to the brightness. It felt even more overwhelming with all the people sitting in the bleachers. But as you got adjusted, you realized just how big the event was. Everything fit the theme, being either blue, purple, black, or orange. Banners of sponsors lined the stadium, many of which you could recognize based on the logo alone. There was a television playing in the back with commentary. 

It wasn’t as if you had bought a seat, so you were forced to stand up. This didn’t make you stand out at all, though, as many fans had left their seats to cheer, some of them even holding up signs. The chanting pounded against your head, and you wondered if you’d be deaf by the time it stopped. 

Five minutes.

You could’ve only been standing there for five minutes, at the tail end of the battle, maybe a few more as you stood in the middle of the bleachers while the rest of the crowd moved on. People spilled out of the doors to catch a glimpse of the challengers, with a fervor that drove them to push each other over in an attempt to get out first, nearly knocking you over in the process. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they might even snap a picture of the gym leader himself. 

It wasn’t long before you were the only one left. You felt a finger tapping your shoulder and you turned around. Some janitor or other employee asking you to leave. You limply took out your ID and they warned you about how the doors would lock and lights would dim sooner rather than later, before leaving you to your own devices. 

You sat down without realizing you had ever decided to sit, leaning forward against the rails. They were cold, made of metal. Way too clean, considering how many people probably put their filthy hands all over them. You assumed then that they were wiped down every so often to keep them presentable. Great, even the _railing_ was better in Galar. 

Your vision blurred, but you wiped whatever was in your eyes with your palm before it became something more unruly. It didn’t help, and the mist stayed in your eyes as you blinked, trying to will it away. 

This was why you didn’t want to come here. You knew this would happen. But no, you just had to get a peek. The battle wasn’t even that great, and now you were learning that it was possible to start tearing up at the sight of a goddamn piece of railing that was just a little too clean for your brain to handle.

You should’ve stayed back at the vault like a good employee. 

“Didn’t the staff tell you they’re locking up?” As if on cue, the lights of the stadium dimmed to something more natural. 

The tears dried up at the sound of another person’s voice as your usual cavalier attitude came back out, which was then replaced by irritation as you realized just who it was.

“If you wanted a seat, you coulda just asked,” Raihan said.

You could hear him sitting somewhere beside you, and you could only hope it wasn’t too close.

“I didn’t,” you said, deciding you preferred to look out at the empty battlefield. Not that you could see much, now that it was darker. Big and empty. “Just thinking about how you lost.”

That was a lie. You’d been too busy wrapped up in your own thoughts to know the outcome of the battle. If anything, you would’ve had a better chance guessing he won, but you weren’t about to go and encourage him. 

“Oh, like you’re any better,” he said, irritation seeping into his tone, breaking his cool-guy act for the first time. He’d been perfectly picturesque in all other interactions, so it came as a surprise that he could experience anything other than manufactured frustration played up for the sake of the audience. So he’d lost after all. You snorted at that, feeling marginally better about yourself. “At least I don’t punch my challengers when I lose.”

You stood up at that, feeling your head spin from doing it so quickly. It was possible you had done so before the sentence had finished coming out of his mouth, with your body instinctively understanding you were about to be insulted. There were a lot of things you wanted to say, a lot of things that wouldn’t change his mind, and a lot more nonsensical curses than you cared to count. 

There was a slant to his words, an intention that he wanted you to see. You had held your tongue because of the potential consequences at the cafe, but this guy really knew how to push your buttons. His words were no mere coincidence. He’d known the whole time, hadn’t he? 

“At least I became the Champion,” you said, snorting. “What does this year make, fourteen? I got the seat first try.”

“Lost it in record time, too,” he shot back, and you had to turn your entire body for that. Despite the dim lighting, you could _feel_ the smugness radiating off of him as he continued, “To a dragon type user, might I add.”

You forced your fist to unclench, feeling the indents left behind from your nails as you drew out a slow breath. Once you were sufficiently calm, you gave him your best smile, making sure to take a few steps forward so he could see it in full view. You’d never looked anything other than bored with life during your job, so you were certain he was taken off guard. Of course, your smile was impeccable. You had practiced it for hours and hours, and though you loathed to ever use it, you had the motion down pat. It grew larger when you got a better look at Raihan’s expression. It may have seemed nonchalant to a normal person, but you could tell from the slight tremble in his throat that he was put off. 

“Oh please, I could beat your entire team with half of mine,” you said, still smiling. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” he said, leaning in. All evidence of him being taken aback had been tucked away somewhere you could no longer see. “Fine then. You and me, on the pitch. Right now.”

Your response came in the form of you spinning around to walk towards the door so that you could make your way down to the pitch. And despite yourself, you felt your heart soar. You forced down the feeling, lest you grant him the satisfaction of coaxing out a genuine smile.

—

It had probably been five hours since Raihan started his search. There was an incessant buzzing in the room, and he wasn’t sure if that was from his phone or if his mind had constructed the sound by itself. 

_“Say, your Serperior is a special one, isn’t it?”_

It was 3 in the morning now, and he was still up, trying to dig up the scoop on this girl. At first, it had been nothing more than a suspicion. From the moment he had laid eyes on her,she avoided his gaze rather than reach for it. Her smile, if he could even call it one, was to mock him. The entire time, he couldn’t help but feel that this was someone he knew. 

The thing was, he knew a _lot_ of people. It was part of his job. But even so, that itch didn’t stop, and it had driven him up the wall trying to scratch it.

_“You could say that. This one’s been bred. Has its hidden ability, Contrary.”_

It clicked only after they’d headed for the gym. Only a name, said in passing. It was surprising enough that he’d bothered to commit it to memory, even with as long as it took him to fish it out. 

The name, along with vague tales, were enough for him. That was what he told himself. 

Five hours of research, and basically nothing. No website or social media presence. News articles were few and far in between. Only one interview as far as he could find, on some person’s blog gleefully dedicated to recording the mishaps of League members in Unova. She was its main focus. 

_“That’s quite special indeed! But how did you get a pokemon this strong?”_

Raihan had always prided himself on being internet savvy. It was his thing, with social media and all. He was basically the third face of the Gym Challenge, after the chairman and champion. Depending on who you were talking to, maybe even the second. Or first.

_“I traded it.”_

But damn. 

Unova really had nothing. It was nothing like Galar, where everything was meticulously recorded for all posterity. There were hardly any recordings of battles, and for the most part, audiences weren’t allowed inside to view them, which meant no written accounts either. A completely different world.

_“Trade?”_

It didn’t help that she’d only been champion for two years. A person couldn’t bring about much change in that little time. 

_“Obviously. Nothing comes for free.”_

He’d only been able to find her _because_ of his aforementioned attachment to the internet. But if Leon hadn’t told him about the fact that his cousin had overthrown becoming the new champion of Unova, way back when, only a few years into their respective titles as Champion and strongest Gym Leader, then he might’ve never known her at all. Why had that even come up, again? Leon never talked about Iris. 

_“I’m sure the audience is dying to know. Just what did you trade it for?”_

Not her pokemon team, or if she had more than one, not her past, likes, dislikes, weaknesses, strengths, anything. If it had been there, it had been wiped all too thoroughly. The more likely answer was that these things had never been put up at all.

There was silence in the room as Raihan blinked, trying to ward off the sleep in his eyes. It had been a long day, and there he was, researching some girl like one of his overly zealous fans did to him.

_“It was simple. I traded my starter for it.”_

The only things that people noted about her reign were all her shortcomings, of which there were very many. Hush money to keep her seat, claims of foul play, steroid abuse, blackmail, stealing pokemon. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for power.

_“But…but why?”_

And of course, the thing that had turned the public away from her. Apparently the only truly notable thing, and why she was kicked out of the League. Permanently. The only official articles he found of her were all about this incident, and this incident only. 

_“Contrary is objectively the better ability. If it doesn’t give me the best chance to win, then what’s the point?”_

When she lost her seat, she assaulted the challenger that defeated her.

From all that he’d seen of her, he could believe it. She was abrasive, irreverent, and anything but soft-spoken. 

His arm hurt from hovering over his head for so long. And still he pressed play again, to listen to the only interview he could find of her, for what seemed like the millionth time.

The words didn’t faze him. They were shocking, yes, but he had heard them so many times. She could’ve just as easily have been talking about the new boutique that opened up down the street. 

That stare. That unnerving, blistering stare. It wasn’t the interviewer she looked at, but the camera, the viewer, the entire time, enunciating every word as if to dare anyone who disagreed to come and challenge her themselves. 

There he lay, in the middle of the night, unable to forget the battle they’d shared the day before. 

—

You were rustier then you thought. Worse, this wannabe champion was better than you wanted to admit. Heaven forbid it was somehow both, though a part deep down knew this was the correct answer. 

Not just that, but you couldn’t believe how easily you let yourself be breathtaken by the sight of Dynamaxing in real life. Who would’ve thought a skyscraper-dragon would have you speechless as you craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of its face. The distraction proved fatal. 

Another loss. 

At last you remembered yourself and you clicked your tongue, returning Serperior to its ball and turning your heel. 

“What are you doing?” Raihan demanded, leaving Duraludon to stand by itself. It shrank back down to normal size in a puff of smoke. “The battle isn’t over yet!”

“It is,” you said, scrunching your nose. “I said I could beat your team with half of mine. As far as I’m aware, three is half of six.”

“You were serious about that?” he said, looking angry for a moment before settling on something more conflicted. “You were about to--”

“Of course I was serious,” you said, scowl managing to deepen, though Raihan thought he was the one who ought to be more offended. You turned your head back to the doors, intending to storm off somewhere to cool down. But it didn’t feel right to leave so indignantly, so you forced yourself to take a few breaths. Your voice was stone as you continued, “You won. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

You walked away before you could hear his answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The first chapter was received better than I thought, glad people didn't get turned off by the reader's-ahem-strong personality. And as always, any and all comments are appreciated!


	3. [Three; The dark scared you as a kid.]

You were surprised that you still had a job the next day. And the next day, and the day after that. For a time, you were left with the feeling that someone was hovering over your shoulder but refusing to show themselves. But whenever you whipped your head around to look behind you, there was nothing to see.

The tension broke near the end of the week, when you were tossed a set of clothes from one of the other employees. You spread it out and recognized it as the uniform of Hammerlocke Gym trainers. Your coworker shrugged at your confusion. 

“One of the trainers is absent today. Raihan said to give you the clothes and you’d figure out the rest.” The coworker paused. The two of you hadn’t interacted much before, though you weren’t surprised. You didn’t exactly give off the most reassuring aura. He was brave enough to continue, “Do you know someone?”

You shook your head. Again, not many people wanted to associate with you. 

By ‘figuring it out’ Raihan could’ve only mean one thing. Your coworker seemed to understand at the same time as you, eyes widening as he looked you up and down properly for the first time. 

“I didn’t know you had the qualifications. You don’t exactly…” he trailed off, realizing he’d messed up a tad too late. 

“No, please go on. I’d love to know how _unqualified_ you think I am for the job,” you said, somehow managing to keep an overly biting tone out of your voice. If you squinted, it might’ve even passed off as harmless banter. 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that. Just. You know. Today’s the last day for challengers to attempt the gym, so it’s going to have a lot of coverage. It’s usually the day with the most challengers too, and…”

Your coworker, as he was speaking, began to step backwards until he was able to dismiss himself to another room. It was such a seamless transition that you were almost impressed, if not offended that he didn’t stick around to hear the absolute beatdown he had called upon himself after that little spiel of his. 

You sighed as his back disappeared, still clutching onto the obviously-new set of clothes. You checked the tags and yup, they were your size exactly. Whatever had happened, it had been meticulously planned. You didn’t put it past that gym leader of yours to try and size you up. 

Raihan had another thing coming if he thought you were _ever_ going to work under him as a trainer, much less a dragon-type one. You had half a mind to send it back after sufficiently cutting the article up, but your common sense got the better of you. Frustrating as it was, he was still technically your boss, and if you knew anything about the guy, then he really didn’t have anyone else in mind to take over. This was a good opportunity to get him to owe you a thing or two. 

You had been sneaking glances into the windows of the Battle Cafe ever since you got started at your new job. The employee, whose name you had already forgotten, was still there. It was unfortunate, but it looked like you’d have to hang onto this job a little longer.

Your grip on the clothes grew tighter. 

So he was going to be like that. Fine. All you needed was a quick trip to the Pokemon Center. 

—

“For the last time _Charizard is not a dragon-type!”_ Aria said, throwing her hands into the air. 

“Really? I didn’t see any trainers complaining,” you said, turning your head to not-so-secretly whisper to your Charizard, “Don’t worry about her, she’s just jealous that we’ve been destroying everyone’s team before she gets a turn.” 

In reality, you had, in fact, been notified by numerous trainers that your team didn’t fit with the gym’s theme. How could they not know, when Leon’s Charizard was basically the face of the League when he was Champion just a few years prior?

But Charizard didn’t _not_ fit the theme. It looked like a dragon, breathed fire like a dragon, could breed with other “real” dragons, and could mega-evolve into a dragon. In your opinion, Charizard was much more qualified in all dragon-like respects than whatever pokemon came before you. A Turtonator? It literally had turtle in the name, and most certainly wasn’t a dragon in your book. If Charizard was good enough for Lance, it was good enough for you, and it better be good enough for everyone else, too. 

And so long as you remained a Gym Trainer, all challengers would be crushed by your duo before they made it to Raihan. Not that this was particularly hard, especially when trainers mostly brought in Fairy and Ice-types in anticipation for the gym. 

“And even if we were to overlook this blatant disregard for the gym, just why did you bring a Vulpix? What are you trying to prove?”

“Like I said, it was the only pokemon I had with Drought.”

This was the truth. Your PC was startlingly low on viable fighters. As in, it was completely void of any pokemon except for Charizard. Lucky break, really. You wouldn’t have gotten off so easy if you had brought in something like a Sawk. Even the Vulpix was a last-minute catch, having found one just moments before coming in for work from the Wild Area, but no one had to know that. Unfortunately for you, there was no quick way to obtain a Fire Stone around the city, so you had to make do. You only needed it to keep up with the weather theme that the gym was so insistent on upholding, anyway. Charizard did all the work. If only you could’ve used mega stones, then perhaps you would’ve considered switching to a double Charizard strategy, to make everyone _really_ mad. Ah well.

Sebastian never came back to take your place. And as promised, no challenger that came that day ever got to fight Raihan. 

There was a certain amusement to be had in seeing all the panicked fans online, wondering why there hadn’t been any more challengers. This was a record low, they said. No one mentioned a thing about your Charizard, though you’d been secretly hoping you’d make the news somewhere. Perhaps you’d scared away the challengers a bit too well. That, or the other Gym Trainers were exceptionally well-versed in smoothing situations over. Either option wouldn’t have surprised you.

You had always thought it was a bit strange, how they didn’t record the challenge leading up to the main battle in the stadium. They did it for most of, if not all, the other gyms, didn’t they? You assumed it was because Raihan wanted all eyes to be on his battle rather than anyone else’s, but you wouldn’t know the answer unless he told you himself. 

And through all this, you imagined that Raihan did nothing but wait around in his locker all day, wondering what to do. He certainly didn’t stop by to say hello or demand to know why you weren’t abiding by gym policy. Probably too busy smiling for the camera.

By the end of the season, nothing much was gained, except perhaps your newfound appreciation for Charizard. There wasn’t a reason for you to stick around for the final tournament either; you knew the champion would win, as usual, the challengers would put up a moderate to mediocre fight, as usual, and Raihan would lose. As usual. 

—

So you weren’t let go during the gym challenge. Okay. You could believe that, since it’d be hard to find replacements so late into the season. Plus, you were a great trainer, so it was hard to argue with your results. But it was weeks after the fact. You weren’t a model employee, far from it. 

So then, what were you doing sitting in the middle of a party in your best dress, watching as the current Champion held a toast to her defending the throne? Something something Zamazenta, blah blah Zacian. Horton had the best leg up in the form of a legendary pokemon, and managed to lose yet a second time. All stuff you’d predicted the moment you laid eyes on the guy. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to what was being said, too busy staring at all the familiar faces in the room and wondering if they really didn’t having anything better to do than attend a function like this. 

Raihan had texted you the details himself, ordering you to come. On a normal day you would’ve had no problem ignoring such a message, but your curiosity had gotten the better of you. As far as you knew, he held the same neutral-to-dislike towards you that you did to him. So why did he keep you around? And how the hell did he get your number? 

You placed yourself strategically in the corner of the room, not wanting to risk anyone (Raihan) from sneaking up on you. There were two rows of tables stretching on either side of the excessively large dining hall filled with food and drink. Somehow, the lace tablecloth had yet to be stained with anything, further convincing you of the fact that this was nothing more than an excuse for League members to hang out. You yourself had yet to have anything except punch. Honestly, you had only taken a glass because you had been offered some from a waiter. Everyone else seemed to have a glass, and you didn’t want to bring attention to yourself. It would be useful to keep up the illusion that you were supposed to be there, even if you hadn’t planned on drinking any in the first place. Who knew what they put in the stuff. 

There was a cheer that let you know that you were supposed to raise your glass, which you did, before everyone went back to talking to their friends again. You took a cautious sip out of your glass, eyes never lingering too long on one spot. 

And there was the man who invited you himself, talking away without a care in the world with Hoopa. Honda. Horn. Whatever. That kid that looked like Leon. The actual Leon was standing only a few paces away, talking to his successor with what looked to be a glass of champagne in his hand. You hadn’t expected him to be the type to drink at something like this. If the business had taught you anything, it was that being sober was an asset. 

As if the world wanted nothing more than to mock you, you felt your legs give in for a moment, nearly causing you to trip. Luckily all that happened was that you looked like an idiot for two seconds as you regained balance. Everyone was too busy talking amongst themselves to even notice. 

You had started a determined march over to the other side of the room, towards Raihan, when a cough, which you somehow just _knew_ was directed at you, caused you to turn around. You had only gotten a glimpse of a hat out of the corner of your eye, but you recognized it right away. How could you not? You near dropped your drink at the sight, but managed to clamp on through sheer will. You were not about to make a scene. 

“Well, look who it is. Didn’t think you’d show up,” the voice rumbled, taking a few confident strides forward. He put a much unwelcome, all too familiar, hand on your shoulder, giving it a few pats. “To think you wouldn’t be invited if the gym leader hadn’t thought to tell you. How the mighty fall, eh?”

You didn’t bother to restrain the way you slapped the touch away, rubbing your shoulder as if the very action had made your skin unclean. It certainly felt that way, as if bubbles rose out from underneath where you’d made contact. You should’ve known it wasn’t Raihan. You’d been suspicious, but not suspicious enough. 

“What do you want?” you said, letting go of your shoulder. “What, did you follow me here from Unova?”

“Of course not. I was invited here, on account of my diplomatic status. You know how busy it gets,” the man said with a smile that honestly gave you goosebumps. “But let’s take this outside first, shall we? Don’t want anyone to listen in and expose ourselves.”

You let yourself be led a ways outside to a more secluded balcony. The man made sure to close the curtain behind him, and you watched as it fluttered from the force, swinging back and forth as it settled into place. It felt almost hypnotic. 

Blinking, you shook your head. This wasn’t the time. 

“Again. What do you want?” you asked, putting one arm against the railing. You had to push back the hair that fell in front of your face, feeling like the strands were suffocating you. For whatever reason, your stomach had begun to churn, and you had a bad feeling about all this. 

“Sweetheart, when I said I’ll ruin your life, I meant it. And now that I’ve been given the opportunity to do it again, why wouldn’t I?”

He could’ve done all this in secret, so you hadn’t noticed, but he obviously wasn’t the type to hide his motivations. It was stupid, but then again, he had yet to be caught. Perhaps his confidence wasn’t so unfounded after all. He took pleasure in watching you fall deeper and deeper into a pit of imagined shame. 

“If that’s all you had to say, then I’m leaving,” you said, honestly regretting having followed the man at all. What else should you have expected from him? But for whatever reason, your footing wasn’t as solid as you remembered, and you had to hold tighter onto the rails. Your grip on the drink lowered enough that the red liquid dripped onto the floor. Some of it splashed onto your feet. Your mind began to play back everything that had happened since you got to the party.

People, but no one noticed you. Of course. Man hands you a drink. You drink it, as people do. Raihan didn’t seem to be looking for anyone. The champion. Leon’s little brother’s friend, Leon’s little brother, Leon. Champagne. Punch. Had they served punch? How many people had you seen drinking red liquid? And this glass… 

At last, you grip gave way and it shattered all over the expensive marbled floor, glittering against the soft light that shone through the bottoms of the curtains, which didn’t quite reach the floor. It was a wonder you didn’t throw up, with all the nausea you were feeling. 

“Careful,” he said, with laughter that bounced around your head. “The building doesn’t look quite…stable.”

And that was all it took for the rails to crumble as if they’d been waiting for those words, and there you were, falling, falling, falling to the ground from way too high up as you saw that man’s damn face with that eerie grin of his, before his back receded back into the light.

How many seconds did it take for a person to fall from a building? You weren’t sure, but even blackout drunk you knew your way around your pokemon belt, worn conveniently at your hip at all times with a disregard for fashion. 

You couldn’t even hear your voice amidst all the wind whipping around you, but from the silhouette that flashed in front of your eyes, you knew at once you had called the correct pokemon. And from the way footsteps pounded around you, whatever you looked like, that fall wasn’t pretty. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing reader is somehow really cathartic for me, haha.


	4. [Four; Who didn’t enjoy a good book?]

You’d been through worse. Maybe not literally; you’d never been plotted against and thrown off of a building, but you’d certainly had your fair share of ups and downs. Metaphorical ups and downs. At this point, it was just another Tuesday. Or whatever day it was, you hadn’t really paid any attention to the calendar in a while. In fact, one could even argue that at least falling out of a building and surviving was a little badass. And also lame because you’d fallen for what was a pretty obvious trick in hindsight. 

Optimism was not a strong suit of yours.

“I’m fine,” you croaked out, trying to wave away the small crowd, which consisted mostly of staff that had been loitering on the lower floors as they waited to greet anyone that had come late. As far as you could tell, the party was still going on at full-force. 

Skarmory had broken your fall well enough, though you had missed grabbing onto its body or feet from the unexpectedness of it all. That was probably why you could feel something warm running down your arms between flashes where your muscles cramped up. You were glad that your brain had gone ahead and made most of you numb. Your chest was torn up badly as well, and your dress was clinging on for dear life. Good thing you’d chosen red, or else you’d have never been able to wash out all the stains. Not that you’d be able to salvage the thing considering all the tears, but still. 

Your pokemon spread out its wings as it shooed away the people that tried to come closer to help you, which you appreciated, because the concern just made the ringing in your head worse. Alas, it wasn’t about to get better anytime soon, because who was it that sprinted out the building but Raihan himself, looking way too concerned for someone that purportedly didn’t like you. 

Unlike any other person who had sense, he ignored Skarmory’s warning crows entirely, kneeling over you to check your vitals with one hand, tapping furiously away on his phone on the other.

“You better not be taking a selfie,” you managed to say, hissing as he peeled away some of the cloth to reveal more lacerations. 

“Could you send an ambulance?” Raihan said as he lifted the device to his ear, emphasizing the last word. He gave you a harsh look, but it didn’t last as long as it otherwise would’ve once he remembered the sorry state you were in. He mumbled a few replies to whatever was being said on the other side of the line, too quiet for your pounding head to hear. All you managed to decipher was, “Yeah, thanks.”

You were tempted to say you could walk this off, just to spite him and his ambulance call, but you were in enough pain that you had to admit that a bandaid or two would be nice. 

“Skarmory, down,” you said, and at once, the pokemon halted its screeching, hopping forward to examine you further. “I’ll be fine. Get back in your ball.” The pokemon didn’t question you, poking the button with its beak and disappearing as you requested. You made no comment upon the way Raihan paused his call to watch, eyes flickering back and forth between you and the spot where the pokemon once stood. 

It wasn’t long before the ambulance made its way, and thank god for that, because people had finally begun to notice the rising commotion. You really didn’t need anyone else to witness your literal downfall. 

The ride to the hospital was a quiet one. 

—

Why was Raihan still here? He’d been sitting by the edge of your bed, scrolling through his phone for the past hour as doctors and nurses passed through your room to tell you that your condition, deplorable as it was, would not take too long to heal. They slapped some bandages on you, did the polite equivalent of telling you to walk it off, and bid you good day. Frankly, it was the bill that hurt you the most. 

You’d been staring at the ceiling since getting the verdict, willing with all your might for Raihan to take the hint and get out, but he remained attached to his chair. It didn’t look comfortable, either, to sit all slouched like that. Wasn’t he a pseudo-model or something? He really needed to check his posture before he got permanent turtle-neck syndrome. 

But what stopped you from outright telling him to get out so you could limp home in peace, was the fact that there were numerous questions that had surfaced in your mind. 

“What’s my phone number?” you blurted out, and though it was the least important question, you still felt an amount of tension as you waited for his answer.

“What?” Raihan stopped his mindless scrolling to stare at you. And there it was—a look so thoroughly confused he didn’t even remember he was supposed to think up a witty comeback. He looked as blank as the hospital walls.

You let out a sigh in relief. It had been essentially confirmed back at the party, but it was nice to know he didn’t have the pleasure of being able to text you whenever you wanted. The way he was looking at you, though, made you think he was still pressing for an answer. 

“You could’ve slipped it while I was getting lectured about railing safety,” you dismissed with a shrug. 

“You don’t seriously think that,” he said, looking genuinely upset. For a moment you thought you’d gone too far. “You know I have thousands of girls that would give me their number willingly, right? I really don’t need handouts.”

You didn’t feel bad anymore. You should’ve known better, really.

The next question, you had to think through. It had been gnawing at you for whatever reason, even as you’d ridden the ambulance. 

“When did you notice I was at the party?”

“I didn’t.”

Oh, he was not about to pull a fast one on you, of all people. You knew better. 

“And I’m sure that’s why you were the only one that came down when I fell,” you said, sitting up if only to look slightly more imposing. You regretted the decision immediately, but it was too late for you to wimp out now.

“Maybe I saw it happen,” he said, putting away his phone. Without it, his hands were prone to fidgeting. He soon shoved them into his jacket pockets.

“When the curtains were closed?” You were standing up now, supporting yourself against the bed as you slid your way closer. “You’ll need to be more convincing than that.” 

But no amount of staring him down made him crack, and at last, you had to move on to the next question. You’d get him another time. You shuffled past him, since this was your last question, intending to leave as soon as you were possibly able once you were done with the most pathetic attempt at an interrogation you’d ever seen. 

“Was the guy caught?” you asked, hanging onto the doorframe with one of your hands. You brain had a hard time trusting your feet after all you went through. Understandable, but it didn’t bode well for your ego.

“No shit he was caught. You’d think a person would know by now that we have cameras,” Raihan said, snorting, standing up himself. “Just who was he?”

You shrugged. 

“So you don’t know,” he deadpanned. 

“Look, I’m not the best with names,” you said, pushing yourself off the frame and beginning to hobble down the halls. Your footsteps echoed much too loudly for your liking, but at least you could lift them high enough that they didn’t squeak all over the place. Unlike, say, a certain dragon-type gym leader that was walking beside you. You would’ve thought he was the one who’d fallen off a building, from the way he dragged his feet. “I only knew from those stupid clothes, in the first place. It was probably some stand-in, anyway. The real person wouldn’t risk being caught.”

“So you’re saying he’s still out there?” he said, handing you a pair of crutches, which you denied. “The doc said you needed these.”

“I thought I made that pretty clear. And no,” you said, stepping to the side. “I don’t.”

“Then what now?”

You stopped mid-hall just to give him a look. It wasn’t his business, anyway. What did it matter to him?

He pushed the crutches onto you, and you let them fall to the floor, watching the slight shudder in his shoulders as they clattered to the floor, breaking the silence of the halls.

“Nothing. The guy just wanted me to know he still existed. He’s had his fun, and now he’s probably having a blast on some Galarian cruise or something. I’ll just stop coming to random high-profile parties, keep my head down, and I’ll be perfectly fine.”

By the time you checked out of the hospital, he was still following you around, demanding answers for questions you either didn’t have the patience to answer, or didn’t know the answer to yourself. 

You had gone, oh, maybe two buildings down until your patience ran out. 

“Skarmory, Spikes,” you said, releasing the pokemon an undetermined distance behind you as you continued your limp forward. The pokemon understood your command completely; it was far from the first time you asked it to do something like this. The bird sprayed tiny projectiles onto the ground, and you could hear a yelp as Raihan made an unfortunate misstep.

Spurred on by the sound, you began to shuffle forward faster, actually managing to lose the guy by breaking out into a half jog. Your sides hated you for it, but he had to have been dissuaded by now. By the time you slowed down you had gotten quite a ways deeper into the Wild Area, somewhere between Giant’s Mirror and Hammerlocke Hills. 

Just on time, your Skarmory swooped in beside you. You gave it a nod, instinctively putting a hand back on your belt to return it to its pokeball, when you realized this was the perfect opportunity to let your pokemon loose. 

Due to all the events that had transpired, you hardly had the time to keep up with your usual routine with your team. Correction, your team _plus_ Charizard, whom you had added to your main lineup after it proved itself. You had two fire types now, but to hell with it, what did having a balanced team matter when you hardly battled nowadays anyway? Besides, it had been cooped up in a box for so long, you felt bad.

One by one, you released everyone from their balls, before your hand landed on the last one. Your fingertip barely touched the surface, but you swore felt a shock run through it the moment you made contact. Your hand curled back, and you knew today, like so many others before it, would not be the day. 

All six of your pokemon stood neatly in a row like soldiers waiting for their commander. You gave a small wave and they broke their repose. Usually this meant they’d scatter to relish in their free time, but today they were a bit more touchy-feely. They crowded around you, trying to see if you were okay, pushing you around to make sure you could still keep your balance.

Skarmory, in particular, waggled back and forth as it contemplated getting closer to nudge you around with its beak,or to stay a safer distance away to prevent any more mishaps. It flapped its wings as it tried to come to terms with itself, feathers opening and closing like a fan consisting of razor-sharp blades. 

You raised your hand and gestured for it to come closer, which it did, making careful, jittery steps forward. Skarmory leaned in its head before pulling on one of your sleeves, revealing your bandages. 

“I prefer the cuts to being a puddle on the floor of some rich guy’s party,” you said, brushing the back of your hand along the smooth curvature of its beak, and it leaned into your touch. Shiny and free of rust, as it should be. Good, no blood. Any moisture could ruin the luster of Skarmory’s metallic body, causing it to rust over. And rust meant worse performance in battle. It would’ve been terrible timing, considering it had recently shed it’s feathers for the year. Or maybe if they hadn’t shed at this time, the feathers wouldn’t have been so sharp as to slice through your skin so much. “I’ve decided we’re starting our training circuit again. We’ve been slacking if a _gym leader_ is able to beat us.”

Serperior hissed, eyes glowing in apparent frustration. Much of your team reacted similarly, growing thoughtful as they recounted the battle with Raihan.

You pulled your hand away from Skarmory, waving them all away. 

“So hurry up and go. You don’t really want to spend your free hour with me, do you? We’ll be doing that enough as it is.”

They got the hint, and separated for real this time. They all knew the drill by now; come back to this exact spot in an hour. If they were spotted by a trainer who somehow mistook them as wild, then tough luck. That was a battle they’d have to face on their own. Your pokemon were a crafty lot, though, so this had yet to happen. 

You didn’t know what they did in their free time, and you rather wanted to keep it that way. If it really was so important that you needed to be there, your pokemon could take you with them. 

There was a case to be made about your safety, considering you had no pokemon to accompany you in the case of a battle, but it wasn’t like you were running into wild Bewear territory like an idiot. 

As for you? Usually you would take the time to study up on some new strategy or something similar, but that day you had other plans.

You looked around, scanning your eyes across the horizon. It was way too sunny for your liking, and you couldn’t help but squint, even as you shaded your eyes with one of your hands. Your back burned from being assaulted by the heat, and you wanted nothing more than to hide away in the shade. But for today, and only today, you would tolerate it. Your eyes landed upon a particular spot near Hammerlocke’s entrance. That looked about right. 

You took out another pokeball, not from your belt this time, but from your bag. Unlike your usual Ultra Balls, this one was the standard red and white version that every kid and their mom used. You tossed it out into the open and let out Vulpix. It let out a soft cry as it landed into the grass, gazing around at the familiar surroundings. It spun around a few times, tail flicking back and forth as it tried to understand what was happening. Until then, the only reason you’d taken it out was to eat or battle. You crouched down to meet the pokemon at eye level, and it approached you much too readily, trying to grab the attention of your hand. 

The fur was much too soft for your liking, too well-groomed. Even the way it looked at you, with those big brown eyes. This wasn’t a pokemon you wanted to keep. 

“You’re free to go,” you said, lifting your palm away in order to point deeper into the grass. Vulpix’s head tilted, looking back to see what you were pointing at, but of course there was nothing around but more green. When it still didn’t get the hint, your head drooped. It was getting more cooked by the second. Things always had to get complicated, didn’t they. 

You stood back up carefully, so as not to irritate all your gashes, but unable to hold back the slight wince at the movement nevertheless. The fact that the sun showed no signs of letting up agitated you all the more. You pushed your hair back, running your fingers through what was beginning to feel a little damp from sweat. 

You took a few steps around, staring across the open fields, before taking in a small pond some distance away. There were a few figures surrounding it and lapping up the water, and from the general color and shape, you were confident in your assumption that those were more Vulpix. With this in mind, you began to tread forward, making sure not to make any excessive noise. As you got closer, you couldn’t help but think that the temperature rose accordingly, little waves appearing on the ground that mimicked the flow of water.

Vulpix walked a perfect foot away from you at all times, looking up at you every once in a while to make sure it was doing so correctly. You were quite particular about such things, and had drilled the exercise onto it early on, as you had with your other pokemon. Once you were close enough to the pond, you stopped. Vulpix, not having been looking at anything but your face, bumped into your leg, falling backwards from the impact. It scrambled back up on its feet, anticipating another lecture, or at least a stern look. However, you made no mention of this fact, still facing the rest of the wild pokemon.

You clapped a few times, alerting the wild Vulpix of your location. They bundled together at once, turning around in near-unison to stare down whatever predator had come around to hurt them. Little puffs of flames exited their mouths as they got ready to attack. “I got your friend.”

A step to the side revealed your Vulpix, who had hidden behind your leg. It peeked out cautiously before taking a step forward.

From the way the wild pokemon chittered amongst themselves, you knew they recognized your Vulpix. In particular, one of the larger ones took a brave step forward, trying to growl at you in attempt at intimidation. To you, it sounded like a puppy trying to scare away a butterfly. Foxes, puppies, they were basically the same thing, right?

Vulpix appeared to have an understanding, now. It put a hesitant paw on your leg, breaking the one-foot rule, to gaze up at you. Again, with those big brown eyes. They were so wet you might’ve thought it was about to cry.

You shook it off, and the pokemon bounded off to its family. It made some other pokemon noises that you didn’t know how to describe and calmed down the group. The myriad of eyes landed upon you, before the leader once more cried out and made the Vulpix dissipate into the surrounding grass. The newly-released Vulpix didn’t leave before giving you one last look, but eventually, it too ran off. 

You thought you heard a rustle behind you, but by the time you had gotten over the wooziness from what was probably overexertion and heatstroke, it had stopped. If you had been in better condition, you would’ve checked it out, but you were anything but. 

Slowly, you made your way back to the meet-up spot, letting yourself fall onto your back. At last you could give in to the whims of your body. With every breath you felt the fragility of your bones and skin, as if they could rip if you sucked in too much air. But that was only a problem when you were expected to move. Now, you were resting, and the feeling was just a passing thought in your mind, a novel sensation. The sun wasn’t so unbearable this way, either. 

Your vision blurred, and you knew then that you wouldn’t wake up in time for the hour. The grass was too nice against your skin, wind too peaceful. Your consciousness, which you always tried so hard to keep in control of, faded in and out. With each opening of your eyes, you noticed something new brushing up against you—a wing, a horn, fur, scales, a tail, and even the lick of a flame wrapping around you. You attempted to sit back up (you hated people who flaked), but a force, or perhaps multiple forces, eased you back down. 

On the edge of your mind, as the rest of you drifted off, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps training would have to wait until the next morning after all.


	5. [Five; Your day started with feeding your pokemon.]

It was hard to measure just how unengaged you lived your life in the moments between training sessions. As you instructed your pokemon to act just so, your eyes didn’t threaten to glaze over, nor your mind to turn off. The restlessness that hummed through your body and forced you awake every morning in a sweaty fit lifted as you felt the purpose reclaim you. Your brow didn’t furrow nearly as much, and if it did, it was because you were in thought rather than out of any frustration. Training made sense to you. Simple.

And it was a stupid thing to have ever stopped. 

You never were good for much else. From the moment you saw just what a proper battle could do, you were convinced of its sway on people. The greatest trainers would be immortalized for all of time, or at least for as long as they lived. There was nothing else, you thought, that was worth more of your time. And lo and behold, once you did get your hands on that first pokemon of yours, clunky as the experience was, it was as if something had clicked. It wasn’t inaccurate to say your entire life led up to that moment. From then on, it was all that mattered.

The stadium, a constant reminder of your previous battle, helped to spur you on. Raihan hadn’t allowed you in per se, but you were the one responsible for unlocking the gym ever since you shook down one of the janitors and volunteered yourself for the task. You thought that they felt bad after looking at your post-hospital injuries, but so long as you got what you wanted, did it really matter what they thought?

What was more alarming was the fact that you had yet to be let go. You had waited for someone to rip off your name tag and point you out the door, but the exact opposite had happened; that nervous wreck of a coworker that had doubted you during the gym challenge slid beside you and congratulated you on your pay raise. After a brief talk with the manager, you’d found out he wasn’t lying. It couldn’t have been anyone other than Raihan that had made this happen. The manager seemed rather bitter about it all, so it wasn’t her.

The sun had yet to come up, and it was the weekend, so you were sure no one minded. It wasn’t even gym season anymore. Raihan probably had some fancy private training station off in some underground lab. He could spare the space every once in a while. It would be a waste otherwise. 

It was cold even though you were indoors, which helped to shake off any potential grogginess you might’ve otherwise felt. The air cut into your skin with every movement down to your blinks. It was a good thing, though. Once you could feel your fingers again, you knew it was time to scram. 

“Absol, that last move was sloppy. Do it again.” The pokemon obliged, striking at its invisible opponent with a paw so quickly the movement was but a blur. But it was wrong, all wrong.You frowned, stepping off to the side to view the attack from a different angle. “You’re hesitating. Put your back into it.”

No matter how many times you instructed the pokemon, it took that cautious step backwards, as if running was an option it stowed away in the back of its mind. A worst-case scenario tactic of sorts. Hm. This had never been an issue before. Well, it had, but you thought you’d thoroughly stamped out the habit by now.

It occurred to you, all at once, just how long you’d been slacking. To think, you’d have to start so much worse than you had been. Would it really have been so hard, taking an hour every day to make sure you didn’t lose your polish? You might’ve even improved.

That bitterness rose up in your throat again and you were tempted to scream. You managed to swallow it back down, though, biting down on the inside of your cheek to remind you that showing your disappointment was just about the least productive thing you could do in that moment. 

You sighed, putting a hand on your forehead. 

Absol, as a species, weren’t fighters. Despite their massive strength, they avoided conflict when possible, coming down from the perches of their mountain homes only to warn of impending disaster. Just how many times had you read those lines over and over again in your research? Just how many times had you witnessed such behavior first hand? 

Of course a pokemon like Absol would want to keep their options open for fleeing. They were infamous, especially with older generations, known as a harbinger of disaster. Untrue as it was, people held grudges against the species. So then, it was in their nature to run. 

But battling wasn’t nature. 

“Serperior, into position.” With a flick of the wrist, you pointed towards the center of the room. The rest of your pokemon cleared away, leaving space for the serpent to slither in, the perfect distance away for a mock battle. “We aren’t leaving until you get this right.”

—

You had ordered Serperior to fight back as it thought necessary, and it had done just that, perhaps more. Unlike Absol, who was panting as it circled the serpent, Serperior had spared no effort to try and take its opponent down. Out of all your pokemon, Serperior was certainly the most ruthless, never able to take a battle anything but with the utmost gravity. Unless Absol regarded Serperior with the same determination, it would not last. 

“Someone’s up early,” a voice cut in through the sounds of your sparring, but it hardly registered in your mind as you urged your pokemon to continue. The sound may as well have come from a mosquito, only serving to annoy you. It was only when a hand was waved in front of your face that you stopped. “Who said you could use the stadium?”

Of course it was Raihan. He looked half-dead, covering his mouth for a yawn as he turned to look at your pokemon. You waited to be reprimanded, face unable to flatten out into a neutral expression all the while. There was only silence. 

“Didn’t look like you were using it,” you grunted in response, turning back to the training session. For a moment, Raihan was able to disappear in your mind as you were engulfed by thoughts of strategy. 

“You sure you’re not pushing your pokemon too hard? It’s only seven.”

“I know my pokemon better than you.”

“Fine,” he said, with a bit more tooth in his voice than strictly necessary. “As your _boss_ , I formally invite you to eat breakfast with me, before your pokemon faint. Actually, make that an order.”

“You can’t do that.”

“So long as I’m the gym leader, this stadium is my property,” Raihan said, crossing his arms and shooting you a sleepy smile. “I think I could do a lot worse than buy you breakfast. So? What do you choose, losing your job or taking a break?”

Your eyes narrowed, not sure how to feel about the offer. Just days ago, the two of you had been at serious odds with each other. What was going on with the guy? But regardless of his intentions, there wasn’t much you could do but go along with him, begrudgingly calling your pokemon back into their pokeballs. You’d take the loss for today. 

You followed him down the cobbled streets, trying to appear as disinterested as possible as shrieks pierced your ears with every turn, fans accosting Raihan with requests for autographs and selfies. Didn’t the guy get tired of doing the same pose over and over again? If he did, he was exceptionally good at hiding it, because his smile remained picture perfect throughout each interaction. It was to the point that you, had you been more clueless about being a prolific figure, would’ve been convinced he had more than one best friend.

The difference in the way he regarded you and his fans was sickening, and it continued even as you were sat down in a booth. Fans walked up shyly, fiddling with their phones as they looked at anywhere but him. If they were one of the braver ones, they handed him a napkin with a hastily scribbled sequence of symbols that was more than likely to be a phone number. He took them all with a smile, and by the time you had ordered your food, there was a neat stack of them on his side of the table.

People stared from the outside, even daring to take photos. You yanked down the curtain before glass was broken. An employee looked ready to tell you that customers weren’t allowed to mess with them, but one glare was all it took to scare him off. Or maybe it was another fan that didn’t want to chance getting on Raihan’s bad side. 

It got to a point that it started getting on _your_ nerves, having to listen to some squeeing fan about how much they loved Raihan, how they watched every battle of his, and how it was always their dream to see him in person. Sometime around the fifth occurrence, you slammed your hands atop the table and kindly asked them to give you space. 

Or in your words, “Shut up and leave us the hell alone!”

The girl squeaked and shrank back, looking like she was holding back tears. 

“Sorry about my friend,” Raihan said, standing up to console the girl. “She’s not a morning person. You know how it is, right? I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

He shot you a look that told you to pipe down before you singlehandedly proved to ruin his reputation. You hoped the look that you returned him with could convey how he brought this onto himself by interrupting your training. 

The girl sniffed, wiping away her nonexistent tears, and nodded. Raihan whispered some more in her ear before sending her off. 

“You need to learn some delicacy,” Raihan said, scratching his head. “This is why no one likes you.”

“And this is why you’ll never eat in peace,” you said, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “Your fans think they’re your best friends. Newsflash, they know nothing about you. Gotta tell them off or they won’t get the hint.”

“I don’t know, it was pretty peaceful before you decided to yell.”

You didn’t respond to that. The guy was hopelessly in love with keeping up his image. No amount of arguing at the breakfast table was going to change him. All you needed to do was eat your free food and be on your way. Or not, because Raihan had pushed away his plate, and was quite obviously attempting to make conversation. 

You knew it, he had been scheming all along. Should’ve ordered something more expensive. 

“Didn’t see Vulpix in the lineup,” he said, lifting up a bit of the curtain to stare out the window. He spoke with such levity that one could’ve been convinced he was talking to you about the weather. He drummed his fingers against the table a few times as he waited for a response. When nothing came, he continued, “You put her in the PC?”

“I released it,” you said, mouth full. 

“And you don’t feel bad?” He still looked out, watching as the streets gradually filled up with more people as they began to commute for work. The cafe, now that fans were no longer coming up to bother the two of you, had fallen into a hum of utensils scraping against plates and murmurs of morning conversation. From the outside, you were sure you blended in perfectly into the scene. 

“I’m a trainer, not a babysitter.”

The drumming stopped, and he faced you, unable to help the disapproval that creeped up on him. He covered his mouth by folding his hands together and propping them up on the table, but his eyes made his opinions all too clear. 

Oh, you knew where this was headed already. You could hear numerous voices echoing in your mind, all saying the same things. 

_Pokemon aren’t tools for you to throw away once you’re done with them._ _They have feelings too. Why didn’t you keep it? Don’t you see how much it wanted to stay?_

_How could you be so heartless?_

Your throat prepared itself, words bubbling in your throat, preparing to be spat out as you went on one of your tirades. Once you started, there was no stopping you, but self-control wasn’t often your number one priority more than making a point, or being right. 

“I don’t get you,” he said at last. 

“There’s nothing to get,” you said, pushing away your now-empty plate, wiping your hands on one of the numerous napkins left on the table. Raihan made no move to stop you, even as he watched you crumple it in your hand. You tried pushing a little more, tearing it into smaller squares. His eyebrow twitched. “I only needed it for Drought. Other than that, there wasn’t anything remarkable about it. If it’s not going to live up to my standards, then I’d rather not waste everyone’s time.”

Weather wasn’t your thing, anyway. Way too volatile and rather one-note for a main team. You’d need a bigger roster to keep challengers on their toes, and a back-up strategy in the case it was accounted for. Not to mention—You blinked, realizing you’d started thinking much too seriously about the possibility. Your fingers stilled as the last bits of the napkin fluttered onto your plate.

Raihan was hard to read. His eyes were stern, but he didn’t lecture you any further and even started digging into his own meal. 

“You seem perfectly content with Charizard,” he said.

It was no coincidence he was mentioning those two pokemon. In the first place, Raihan had never met Vulpix. And you sure as hell didn’t mention anything to him. 

“Did she snitch on me?” you asked, referring to that one stick-in-the-mud gym trainer. You had expected as much from her. It was a wonder Raihan never pulled you over to the side for a talking to. 

“Oh, numerous times. She still talks about it,” Raihan said. You swore you saw him resisting an eye roll, but there might’ve been a little projection involved. “A Charizard? Really? You did that just to spite me, admit it.”

“It just happened to be the best choice,” you said, attempting to keep a straight face. But remembering the way the gym trainer had pitched a fit was too much to handle, and your shoulders trembled from trying to deny yourself. You coughed, trying to ease the building amusement by focusing on something else. “I always wanted a Charizard. Ever since—”

“You saw Leon’s?” Raihan suggested, and when you looked down, face reddening. He didn’t seem able to believe what he was seeing at first. At last, you decided that admitting was better than deflecting, and you gave him the slightest nod you had to offer. It was impossible for him not to crack at the sight. He slapped a hand on the table, choking back laughter. “Who would’ve thought? You were the fangirl all along. Want me to pass along a message, madame?”

“Shut up. I just respect him is all,” you said, willing yourself to cool off, though it only made your cheeks burn further. So what if you had an appreciation for a mainstream pokemon? It was the damn media’s fault for doing such a good job with their marketing.

You’d actually obtained Charizard on a whim, after your arrival to Galar. It would’ve been the only one too, if not for Vulpix. At the time it had felt pointless, adding to your box when you knew your career was long over. But it turned out to be useful after all. 

“That’s a new one. You? Respecting someone? Maybe it’s the end times after all.” You finally bit the bullet and looked straight at him, and you regretted it at once. His smile was way too wide and it unsettled you that it didn’t look manufactured. Not just unsettled you, but pissed you off in how quickly a person could change gears, from acting all high-and-mighty to straight up poking fun at you. 

It was borderline unnatural. Only strange people knew how to find you amusing, and you weren’t pleased to learn that Raihan was on the list. Was it really that funny, or did he just think he could latch onto any little thing he found against you?

You stood up from your seat before slamming both hands on the table, causing all patrons to swivel their heads in your direction. 

“You and me. Six on six battle. Now.”


	6. [Six; Once a member, always a member.]

You didn’t mean to turn things into a battle. In fact, before that spike of aggravation, you had intended on never challenging the man who stood in front of you ever again. But you never could stop yourself when you got riled up like that, and battling was, in your mind, the only proper way to handle disputes. 

You weren’t losing this one. On your honor as a reputable pokemon trainer.Er, maybe not reputable but… One with too much pride to let things slide. 

“Aren’t you going a bit overboard?” Raihan asked, despite being the one that had goaded you in the first place. It might have been his plan to get a proper battle out of you all along, but in that moment, all that was on your mind were possible avenues for victory. Just look at him, trying to take the high road, while he was taking another stupid selfie.

You let out a strangled scream that didn’t sound unlike a drowning animal, before reminding yourself that despite his tone, Raihan wasn’t the type of guy to take a challenge lightly. Closing your eyes, you brushed away the hair that had inadvertently flown in front of your face. The act in and of itself served to calm you down, as you had often done exactly that before your major battles after staying up a tad too long studying. It was a ritual of sorts, and you could finally think about something other than throttling the guy. 

Your fingers traced over your belt, from which hung seven pokeballs. 

“Raihan, I may have underestimated you before but,” you said, detaching one of the pokeballs from your hip, letting it spin on your finger before letting it slip back into your palm, “I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I’m sure.”

Was that a jab at you being kicked out of the League? It was, wasn’t it? That fucking smirk of his, he knew what he was doing. The grip on your pokeball grew tighter, and you were almost surprised that it held up with under all that pressure. You could feel a slight tremble in your fingertips, as well as your belt, and you knew your pokemon raring to go as well. He was dead meat.

Or, he would’ve been, if not for the sudden rumble you could feel traveling up from your feet to your entire body as your ears filled up with rowdy chants. It sounded a bit like…

_Raihan! Raihan! Raihan!_

There was some pounding on the doors as the crowd of fans grew larger, casting a dark shadow over the frosted glass. Occasionally there were a few flashes, which you assumed to be from cameras. 

“They must’ve overheard your challenge,” he groaned, for once not bothering to hide his displeasure. “I mean, you were pretty loud. I should’ve guessed this would happen. Looks like—hey, where are you going?”

“Hiding, isn’t it obvious?” you said, having to speak louder than usual because the din from outside was getting to be too much. You looked around the stadium, trying to remember where the exit was. Doors, where were the doors… The lights flashed too brightly in your eyes as you paced around, taking all too long to notice the double doors the entrance from which the gym leader came from during official matches. 

You took a few steps forward before freezing in place. You didn’t bring the keys. But wait, Raihan would have those, wouldn’t he? 

Without much thought, you marched on over to him. He was rather compliant as you grabbed onto his arm, pulling him along as you began a sprint for the door. You needed to hurry. Fans got smarter when they were desperate. No doubt would they find some hidden entrance to spill in from. If not, they would find a copy of the keys or knock over the doors down themselves. 

You practically smushed Raihan against the doors as you demanded he open it, looking over your shoulder every so often to make sure no one had yet to break in. 

“Calm down, I got the keys right here,” he said, jingling them in front of you in an attempt to appease you, but all that happened was that they were snatched from his fingers as you jammed them in yourself. It took a while to find the right one, but you got the lock open in under ten seconds, and you burst into the locker room, slamming it behind you.

“Okay, you’re done. Go and kiss the horde if you want,” you said, waving him away as you headed for the exit, tossing him back the keys. If you were sneaky, the fans wouldn’t notice you coming out from the wrong door. They were only there for Raihan, anyway. 

Even if you were the better battler. 

You shook your head. This really wasn’t the time to be dallying with your hand on top of the handle. You pushed your head into the hall and peeked through. Empty, thank god. If something had been wandering around, you would’ve probably karate chopped them into submission, and you _really_ didn’t want to be headlining in another tabloid.

“Didn’t expect you to be the camera-shy type,” Raihan whispered, and you had to restrain yourself from doing said karate chopping. “Or maybe I should’ve expected it, considering everything.”

“Stop following me!” you said, throwing your hands into the air. He was going to bring you both down at this rate. And just what did he mean by ‘expecting’? 

“I’m not following you, this is literally the only other direction I could go!”

“Well I said to go and kiss the horde, didn’t I? Just selfie away your problems, like you always do!”

Raihan scoffed, honestly looking a little too offended. 

“I do _not_ selfie away my problems.”

“Look at your social media feed and say that again to my face,” you said, crawling up against the wall. You could still hear the muffled screams despite all the doors and walls separating you and the crowd. A shiver ran down your spine. 

Just as you were counting your blessings for avoiding that mess, a pair of footsteps echoed throughout the hall. You muttered a curse or three under your breath. 

“I’m serious, I—” 

You slapped a hand over Raihan’s mouth before shoving him into the nearest door, which happened to be a broom closet. There were no lights so you couldn’t be entirely sure that it was a broom closet, but what other room would smell so strongly of ammonia? Not to mention, it was filled with what felt like a shelving unit at the very back, numerous (thankfully empty) buckets, and too many things with handles to count. Whoever the janitor was, they had too many options. 

It would’ve been cramped enough with just you, but adding Raihan, who was way too tall, only made it worse. You could feel him breathing onto your hand, which you had yet to remove, as you waited for the footsteps to grow more distant, and he could probably feel yours as well. The only upside you could think for his presence was at least whatever cologne he sprayed on was preferable to the fumes that came off of cleaning supplies. Both made your head hurt, though. 

His heartbeat was way too erratic, despite the fact that you’d hardly exerted yourselves. Not to mention, it was strange that he was the one panicking. You were the one in danger of being exposed to hundreds, if not thousands, of thirsty fans. 

At last, once you deemed it safe, you pushed back into the door, groping for the handle. It was an awkward angle to be moving around in, and just about every direction made your elbow or some other body part smash into Raihan, who did not appreciate the contact. 

“You’re not doing this on purpose, are you?” he said, trying to shift his position to give himself space. It didn’t do much. 

“Stop talking, you’re taking all of the fresh air,” you muttered, when your hand crashed into something metallic. It hurt, but at least you were free. You jiggled it a few times, trying to turn it. 

“Did you find it?”

“It’s not opening.”

“What?”

“I said it’s stuck! God dammit, this is because you spent your entire budget filling the closet instead of renovating the place,” you started, beginning to mumble something about castles and fail-safe architecture. Honestly, the rambling didn’t make much sense to you either, but it didn’t feel right to not be mad about something right then. You attempted to kick at the door, but there wasn’t enough space to swing, so all you got was a sore ankle. 

You groaned, knocking your head into whatever happened to be in front of your face, which just had to be Raihan’s chest. It probably hurt your nose than it hurt him, but it didn’t stop a quip from coming out.

“Bet you’re wishing you kept that Vulpix now, huh?”

“Yeah, bring that up again why don’t you. If you hadn’t gotten all pissy about it in the first place, then we wouldn’t be here!” you said. “And for what? All that would’ve happened is a future in the PC for all of eternity. What a great life that would be. People need to shut up if they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“You say that like you’re the only one who can be right,” he said, for once, matching your intensity. Or that might’ve been the proximity talking. With every word he said, you could feel the rumbling in his chest, resonating from within. You vibrated along with his speech, and it was the opposite of a good time. “If everyone you meet is saying the same thing, have you considered the problem is you?”

You’d heard this all before. Of course you had, with your personality. But the words, now that you were forced to hear them at point blank, weren’t fun to swallow. All the anger that had accumulated seemed to dissipate, replaced with a tiredness you couldn’t explain. 

The people that didn’t know you thought you were cruel. They saw the way you talked down on others, rolled your eyes in scorn. Your methods were unorthodox, certainly, and people didn’t like them. 

The people that knew you thought you had a knack for business. To them, your relationship with other people and other pokemon as purely transactional. They saw the way your gears turned, calculating the value of everything. 

At the end of the day, you didn’t know which was true, or even if they were at all. 

“Think what you want,” you said, without any particular inflection. “I’m getting us out of here. Try and make some space.”

Raihan didn’t push the issue, though he did mutter a few more indecipherable things under his breath as he leaned back, knocking a few things from the shelf onto the floor. With the added space, you could more easily access your belt, though it was a little bit caught against all the things stuffed in the room. After some fiddling, you did manage to get the correct pokeball out, now pressing your entire body weight onto Raihan as you let out Absol. 

“Superpower, on the door,” you said. 

Absol did its best to wind up for the attack, crashing into the door with all its might. This was more than enough to break the hinges and cause it to fall onto the ground with a clatter. You winced at the loud noise, but it didn’t look like anyone was paying close enough attention to notice. The background noise had saved you. 

You called Absol back before jumping out and taking in gulps of fresh air, which you promised to yourself that you’d never take for granted again. Checking the halls one more time, you began to head for the exit once more. And of course, Raihan still had to follow you.

“Really though, why are you so hell-bent on avoiding the crowd? We could pass it off as a pop-up battle or something.”

“I don’t know about you, but something tells me that getting into a public match against a gym leader isn’t something I should be doing right after having an attempt on my life,” you said, not stopping even as you talked. “The man is still one of the most influential people in Unova, and I am not about to be caught. Better to keep my head down, while I still have it.”

“Just what did you do to the guy?”

This really wasn’t the time to be getting your backstory, but after the whole closet fiasco, you were in no mood to oppose him. 

“Messed with his son.”

“And by that, you mean…”

“I dated him.” You kept it short, because you’d really rather not dwell on that part of your history. Plus, you were getting closer to the doors, and it probably wasn’t a good idea to give away your location after all that strife. 

“Wow. People, liking you? Color me surprised.”

“He didn’t _like_ me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He just thought I was hot. Which I am. And I was on track to be the champion. Which I was. But I don’t suppose you’d know what that’d be like.”

At last, you’d reached the final set of doors. This was the back of the building, but you knew there’d be at least a few fans surveying the area. They were like ants, searching until they found an opening to crawl through, no matter how obtuse. 

You put your head up to the door, trying to see if you could hear anything. But even as you were trying to concentrate, Raihan refused to stop talking. 

“And I suppose he dropped you once he found out those credentials didn’t last.”

“I’ll have you know I was the one that dropped him. A mistake, obviously.”

That decision may have single-handedly cost you your career. And any chance of getting it back. You had flown too close to the proverbial sun. Or perhaps it was inevitable, and things were always meant to come crashing down upon you like this.

You were never meant to stand at the top.

“Uh, are you going to open that door anytime soon? I’m pretty sure we’re in the clear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, pushing it open. As you expected, there were a few figures in the distance, but no impossible hurdles. You motioned Raihan over, and he peeked out as well. “Did you bring your Flygon?” you asked, taking out the one that contained Skarmory. 

He grinned, already on the same page. 

“The fans are gonna love this,” he said.

The two of you released the pokemon simultaneously, and they regarded each other with slight suspicion as they circled each other in the air. Skarmory extended its neck to try and nip at Flygon, who hissed, flicking its tail in return. 

“Skarmory, now’s not the time,” you said, and it flew back, giving the dragon some space. “We need the two of you to work together, as unfortunate as that may be.”

“Mostly for us,” Raihan was quick to say. “Anyway, you guys need to distract the fans with a fake battle so we can make our getaway. Think you can do that?”

Flygon did a flip in the air in confirmation as Skarmory awaited your orders. Once you nodded, assenting to the plan (which you thought to claim as having thought of first, but humbly chose not to), Skarmory fanned out its wings, getting ready to fly higher. You watched as the two pokemon gained altitude before beginning to aim attacks at one another, purposefully missing so as not to ruin the plan. 

The idea worked all too well, and the coast was clear within minutes.

“Nice,” the two of you said in unison, beginning to sneak off in the opposite direction. At last it came to a point where both of you agreed no one was going to catch you, and took a moment to catch your breath. 

“Man, all that and we didn’t even get to battle,” he said, setting himself down on a bench. “Guess we’ll never know who’s the better trainer.”

“It’s me,” you said, all too quickly. You didn’t even look at him, you were too busy scanning the sky to see if Skarmory and Flygon were visible. They likely wouldn’t come back to you until nightfall, when they could more easily come back without being seen. But by this point, you were sure a fair deal of fans had to have gotten the memo and given up. 

“I mean, I was trying to be humble, but if you’re gonna be like that…” he scooted over on the bench, getting marginally closer to where you were standing. “You were the one who admitted it was a loss.”

“And I’m pretty sure if we continued, I would’ve won,” you said. “You won the battle, not the entire tournament."

“That wasn’t what it sounded like when you lost,” he mused, but said nothing to get a rise out of you further. “But fine. We’ll have to reschedule our battle, then.”

“Tomorrow?” you asked, feeling like you’ve been caught with something you shouldn’t have when he laughed at the way you immediately turned around, full attention on him. 

“Unlike you, I have responsibilities to attend to. Give me your number, and we can work it out over text.”

Your hand was already unlocking your phone when you realized the implication of what he said. Your face screwed up into an indescribable emotion (okay, let’s face it, it was disgust) as you stopped mid-tap. Were you seriously going to do this? 

“Do you want that battle or not?” he asked. 

Yup, you were doing this. And there you had it, the second contact in your phone, next to—

“Iris?” Raihan asked, peering over your shoulder. “You talk to her?”

“Not really,” you said, opening up your messages. The majority of them were from her sending you different silly pictures or other news updates, posing with the other League members. On the rare occasion she asked a question, you would answer as concisely as possible. 

“Huh.” Raihan squinted. “That’s…huh.”

“What? Is it that surprising?” you said, not appreciating his tone. It wasn’t even that he was trying to make fun of you, but that he sounded legitimately surprised. 

“Hey, it could’ve been I was just dumbstruck you had someone to call in the first place. Not even your mom…” he trailed off, before coughing. “Just give me your phone. I’ll do it.”

He was quick to input his number; he’d obviously done this many times before. Saved you the embarrassment of having to type everything out while he waited for you to catch up, at least. 

You didn’t appreciate that he put in his name as ‘King’, though.You deleted that as soon as you noticed, replacing it with something you thought more suitable. 

“Second Place?” he said, groaning. “I was gonna go easy on you, but Third Place it is.”

“You take that back, I have never been third in my entire life,” you said, trying to reach for his phone. Regrettably, he was much taller than you were, and it was no problem for him to lift the device out of your reach. You didn’t bother climbing atop the bench to try, you knew it would just make you look stupid. 

“What was that, couldn’t hear you from down there.” 

Whatever. It was a stupid thing anyway. You’d been called worse things. 

It was then that the sound of flapping wings sounded overhead. Looking up, it was both Skarmory and Flygon, who had returned from their mission safe and sound. 

“Good job, Flygon!” Raihan said as his pokemon landed, giving the dragon a big smile. Flygon, in turn, sidled up to his trainer to get some pets, making a sound not unlike a purr. But it was on the big side, so perhaps it was better to compare it to something like a motor instead. 

Skarmory tilted its head as it watched the interaction pan out, before looking up at you with wide eyes. Of all your pokemon, Skarmory had always been the most…how would you describe it, exactly? Sensitive? Eager to please?

With a sigh, you beckoned the pokemon forward, reaching to stroke it with a finger. The bird closed its eyes, feathers rubbing together to make a scraping sound that bordered on offensive. Once you felt that was enough, you put Skarmory back in its ball. 

“Well, looks like today’s adventure is over,” Raihan said, absent-mindedly scratching Flygon’s chin as he watched the scene between you and Skarmory unfold. “You going home?”

You slotted Skarmory’s pokeball into your belt, and as always, brushing your thumb over each and every ball to make sure they were there. That was six pokemon, all accounted for.

“Yeah, I—” 

Wait. Six?

Your hand trembled as it moved over the familiar grooves once more, over and over as you tried to convince yourself you had miscounted. You were so accustomed to the number that you’d thought nothing of it, but that wasn’t right at all. Charizard was a new addition, a member that had replaced another member of the team. But you’d never put it in the PC. Where was that familiar shiver you got when you passed over the capsule? 

When touch wasn’t enough, you resorted to sight, pulling up your shirt an unnecessary amount as you sorted through all your pokeballs. 

Serperior. Skarmory. Absol. Scolipede. Chandelure. Charizard. 

One more time. 

Serperior. Skarmory. Absol. Scolipede. Chandelure. Charizard. 

An empty slot, one that was supposed to be filled. You checked the other side despite knowing you would never and had never done such a thing. 

“What’s wrong?” Raihan’s brow furrowed as he looked down at your belt. 

“My—my pokemon,” you sputtered. “I can’t—It’s not here.” 

You turned back to the gym. It had to be there. It had to be. Without warning, you began the sprint back to the stadium. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha-ha! You have all been bamboozled >:) Their battle shall have to wait another day, it seems...


	7. [Seven; Messy rooms were unforgivable.]

By the time you make it back, it was night. Dark black inky night. As you had previously suspected, people had more or less gone home. You had gotten wind of a few disappointed fans on the sprint over, but those were few and far between. They didn’t recognize you, which only made you mildly annoyed. The rational part of you knew it was a good thing, since it meant no one would try to stop you. The prideful part, which was equally as prominent, wanted to pitch a fit. 

Even if the sun were still out, with throngs of people still crowding the front doors, you would’ve pushed through them all in your frenzy, all the way to the front, and kicked down the door yourself. Or not, because you weren’t stupid enough to try the front door, even when you were in a panic. You found the back door easily enough, though it took a bit of feeling around for the door. A sigh of relief escaped your as it swung open without much problem. You supposed no one had come around to lock it. 

You made no effort to hide the sound of your feet stomping down the halls, which felt like they were loud enough to wake anyone in the entire city. The sounds continued to reverberate even as you came to a screeching halt, overshooting the broom closet by a few too many doors. Impressive, considering the door to the closet had been tossed onto the floor and was as close to impossible to miss as you could get. 

You inhaled deeply, trying to clear your head of all the unnecessary thoughts that flooded it. 

Like, what if you couldn’t find the pokeball, or what if someone had stolen it, or what if your pokemon wouldn’t battle anymore? You’d have to go back all the way back to Unova, somehow, and release it—as if that were even possible. God, you had been so irresponsible. The first thing you should’ve done once you were in the clear was to check your possessions were in order. If his was the you from a few years ago, something like this would’ve never have happened. Look where all this carelessness got you. At what letting go did for you. 

You could feel sweat gathering in your palms, granting them a slight sheen from the overhead lights, which remained on. You wiped them down on your pants, leaving a darker streak on them. It wasn’t long before the sheen came back. 

Cleaning supplies were strewn about on the floor without a care as you shook down all items remotely resembling a container, each time finding nothing but air, or on the rare occasion, a bottle of some unused liquid, luckily sealed tight every time. Looking at it from the outside, you would’ve never imagined so much stuff could fit inside a single space, but frankly such a trivial thing is the furthest thing from your mind in that moment. 

Your grabs were hardly graceful, and often you picked up whatever could fit in your fists without regard for shape, size, or weight. Your fingertips turned red from all the heavy lifting you didn’t anticipate, and you had more than one splinter embedded under your nails from grabbing wooden handles at unfortunate angles. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were a steady stream of curses as you failed to find what you were there for. 

If it wasn’t in there, you didn’t know what you’d do.

You didn’t even notice Raihan’s presence when he showed up. At that point, you were just about ready to dismantle the shelf with your bare hands to get at whatever was at the top. Never mind the fact that it would’ve been ridiculous to think that the pokeball could’ve gotten up there in the first place. 

He gave a small cough, but when you still didn’t pay him any mind, he resorted to knocking on the wall beside the doorframe. The sound was incessant enough that it made you reel back, thinking perhaps it was a guard doing late night rounds. It wasn’t, though, so you went back to hunching over the pile of unsorted goods. 

“Do _not,”_ you said, shooting him a glare, “tell me to calm down.”

He put up his arms, kicking away an empty can of paint before taking a step or two back. The way he regarded you wasn’t unlike a person trying to avoid being bitten by a rabid animal. 

“I didn’t say a thing.”

Satisfied by his answer, you began rummaging away again, only stopping to observe Raihan as he tiptoed around you and your assortment of not-pokeball things. He squatted down, flicking at one of the half-filled party bags used for storage. You prepared for him to start trying to make conversation again, maybe make an odd comment or two, but he said nothing. Instead, he started taking out the contents of the closet, almost as if…he was helping you. 

The thought was soon replaced by a fresh wave of nausea as your brain reminded you that any time spent not trying to find the pokeball was time lost, so you hardly dwelled on the gesture for long. The two of you worked in complete silence, save for the clanking of objects being tossed into the pile of things you’d already searched through. You had stopped the cursing for the most part, still self-aware enough to know that it would only hamper Raihan’s efforts. 

Your eyes bored into the dwindling number of objects that remained. You had cleared out the space pretty thoroughly, to the point that you could even catch glimpses of the floor now. No pokeball. You couldn’t think of a place it was more likely to be. But if you had somehow dropped it outside, then you had a long (you dared not say impossible) task ahead of you. Considering how flat the roads were in the area, even the slightest breeze would send the device rolling to who knows where. 

“Hey—”

“What.” Your voice was low, even threatening, as you made the slow turn to see what Raihan was calling you for. The tension was immediately released, however, when you saw what he was pointing towards. 

“I think this is it,” he said. “I mean, it has to be, right?”

Indeed, there was a sphere, possibly with stripes, stuck in the corner of the closet, which you had failed to comb through in your quest to dump out every item the room held. The doorframe stuck out slightly so you wouldn’t have seen it had you not been sitting at the correct angle. 

You were loathe to get your hopes up, though, since the room itself did a good job cloaking the shape in darkness. For all you knew, it could’ve been one of those laundry pods kids loved to eat so much. 

Raihan, being the closer one, reached out to grab the object first. But as soon as he made contact with the ball he yanked his hand away, muttering a small ‘ouch’. Your hearing had somehow picked on a most quiet crackling noise, the kind of sound one might here in a cartoon when an outlet was on the brink of short-circuiting. He blew on his hand as if it had somehow caught fire, and now that you looked, maybe there really was some smoke that emanated off of his skin. 

“What the hell?” he said, still holding onto the affected hand, “It shocked me.”

You stood up at, heart thumping as you shoved everything to the side in order to get closer. You waded through various buckets, bottles, and loose tools until you were just close enough to reach over. Sure enough, as soon as your fingertips met with the metal, a jolt ran through your arm, causing a small spasm. 

This was it. 

With some effort, you were able to pry the ball away from the corner. It was a bit difficult, with the current forcing your grip to loosen, but you made it work. Apparently, it had gotten stuck between a few screws that had come loose from the walls. You had no idea why they were there in the first place, nor did you really care. 

Holding up the Ultra Ball in the light you let out a sigh, your legs giving our from under you as it dawned on you that the search no longer had to continue. Using the momentum, you threw your back against the wall and slid down until you touched the floor. It was probably dirty, especially after that deep cleaning, or more aptly, dirtying, but hygiene wasn’t exactly on the forefront of your mind. 

You closed your eyes, setting the ball lightly upon your forehead, energy coursing along you all the while. On a normal day that might’ve annoyed you, but all that meant in the moment was that your pokemon hadn’t disappeared. It was right there, in your palm. 

“I’m guessing that’s the one?” Raihan asked. You had yet to open your eyes, but you could hear him enough that you knew he had at least crouched down beside you. 

“Mhm,” you murmured, feeling the rush of adrenaline release you from its grips. Your entire body had been throbbing the entire time but you hadn’t noticed until it had stopped, washing over you with stillness. All that was left to remind you of the hectic events was the ghost of a headache, but that would go away with some rest. 

After some time, your brain managed to catch up with all the events you put it through, and you felt ready to open your eyes again. When you did, the lights felt far too bright, and you had to blink a few times to get used to it as you tried to get a clearer view of Raihan. He really had sat down next to you. Based on the silence you had thought he might be scrolling through his phone again, but it looked like he had been too busy staring at you like you were insane.

If he hadn’t just helped you find your pokemon, you would’ve commented on it, but he had helped you. For once, you were willing to admit that you perhaps, just a little, had a lapse in sanity. Slightly. 

“Thanks,” you said, giving a small nod. 

He started at the sudden speech, or perhaps it was the word itself that had disturbed him so much. It better have surprised him; you didn’t say thank you for just anything. His brows furrowed again as he adjusted his headband, suddenly finding the floor more interesting than you. 

“No problem. I guess,” he said, and you couldn’t help but think he was suspicious of you, or something akin to it. He quickly changed the subject before you could think on it too much, “But you better be prepared to pay for the damages. And you have to clean this up before the janitor comes, or else you’re in for a lot of pain.”

You groaned, staring at the mess you made. Couldn’t Raihan just wave away the fees with his boss power or something? The amount of resources that went into funding gym-related activities was insane. When you’d first read of the estimate, you had to do a double-take to make sure you’d read it correctly. Surely they had enough to just build a new closet. Hire some maids, or something. Wait, were you the maid?

“And now that we’re on the subject, you never did sign the contract, did you? I’ll send you the form tomorrow.” 

Contract? You weren’t about to make this official, were you? But the pay was good and you didn’t really have any duties. Raihan seemed to notice your hesitance, and pressed on, “I’ll let you use the stadium on off-days.”

He knew how to make an offer all right. You weren’t sure what he was playing at, letting you have all this free reign when he could just as easily hire some other person, but you couldn’t pass this up. 

“Fine, I’ll sign the damn thing,” you said, and you thought you saw his mouth twitch. You weren’t sure what that meant. “But I still have to clean.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Raihan said. “I’m sure you and your pokemon can clear this mess within the hour.”

It was your turn to look bewildered. 

“Why would my pokemon help me clean up?” You picked at some of the cans rolling around next to you.

“Because that’s what partners do?”

“Uh, no.” 

This was a mess you’d gotten into yourself, and you’d have to be the one that got yourself out of it. Your pokemon didn’t sign up for community service when you caught them, and you weren’t about to add that to the list of requirements any time soon. 

“You’re really…” Raihan brought his knees closer to his chest, and he rested his head on top, still looking at you. “Incorrigible.”

“But you helped me anyway,” you pointed out. Now that you weren’t so occupied, you realized how weird that was. “Why _did_ you help me? You should’ve just left for your house.”

“What are you, my mom? You can’t tell me how to live my life,” he said, and you took note of that joking tone of his. It was the same one he would use with his fans, a small way to keep his distance from them. You gave him a weak shrug, already having come to terms with the possibility that he wasn’t going to tell you. Just as you were thinking you’d never get a proper answer, he surprised you by continuing, “I don’t know why.”

The way he looked at you, it was almost as if he expected you to supply the answer. What else were you supposed to do then but stare back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this??? A chapter with a chill reader??? Must be the end of the world...


	8. [Eight; Your penmanship was impeccable.]

What was going on? He met some random girl, which was normal enough, though considering her background maybe it was a disservice to call her _random_ per se. He met her by chance and that was as far as random went. Met, if he recalled correctly, because he noticed someone had torn down a sign he had spent way too much time on, and realized that it was in fact, this girl that had torn it from the wall in the first place. Fine. He could deal with that. Everyone had history, and plenty of people would want to take down a poster of his, for whatever reason. 

But what made no sense was his own dedication to “researching” this person in his spare time, of which ninety-nine percent of the time was completely fruitless, because apparently battling was more of a dream in Unova than anything grounded in reality. 

In his defense, though, how could he not be confused? He had never been yelled at so much in his life, and by a person oddly persuasive in things he felt such strong negative feelings against. He would catch glimpses of a person he might get along with, but only after wading through hours of watching someone insufferably stuck in their ways. 

One might’ve thought he would have given up by now, especially after that whole ‘falling from a building and narrowly escaping death’ fiasco, but lo and behold. There he was, standing in front of the Battle Cafe and pacing back and forth by the entrance like an idiot as he tried to weigh the pros and cons of actually accomplishing what he came for. 

To think, a guy like him, who could practically get with any person he wanted, was reduced to feeding off of the gossip of an underpaid part-time employee. All because he was a little bit curious. And it was just curiosity. The same kind that compelled him to watch when there was a Corviknight crash happening in front of him. Er, Skarmory crash?

“Raihan, it’s been too long!” a jovial voice called out from behind, and he had to inwardly groan. Hopefully he didn’t look as hesitant as he felt. “You looked pretty conflicted there. Something wrong?”

At least his hopes were dashed quickly. 

But he was a pro, so he didn’t let a little embarrassment faze him. Turning around, Raihan turned on his best smile. 

“Richie, what’s up?” he said, preparing for a fist bump. Perhaps this was actually a stroke of luck. “Just the man I was looking for.”

Richie was a simple guy. Young, a little naive, ran his mouth too much, but not a bad person. It was actually Raihan that had recommended Richie to come to work at the battle cafe, after he floundered his attempt to come in and work at the stadium. The very job that got Raihan coming back to this cafe in the first place. Small world. 

“I was just about to start my shift, actually. I’m kind of late,” Richie said, returning the greeting. “Not that you’re interrupting much. I was hired to battle, but there haven’t been any challengers since I started. It does seem like we have more customers coming in to eat, though.”

“That’s interesting—“

“No one says it out loud, but it’s definitely because _she_ doesn’t come anymore,” Richie said, lowering his voice as if the mere mention of you might get him into trouble. It was pointless to do so, since it was early in the morning. In fact, the store had yet to be open for more than an hour. This had been a purposeful move on Raihan’s part; he really didn’t want to be caught snooping around. “I’ve been waiting all this time but I haven’t seen her since that first run-in. You must be keeping her real busy with gym duties, huh?”

Richie had the amazing ability to run his mouth without any actual input from others. He practically made conversation with himself. It was aggravating to navigate through, especially if one had questions for him, but that also meant he wasn’t stingy about any information he happened to have. Raihan made a subtle step towards the door, blocking the path forward. 

“You could say that,” Raihan said, purposefully keeping his words vague. He needed to pique Richie’s curiosity. Luckily, charming people was a strength of his. “But who knows, maybe she’s due for a break.”

“Do you think you could ask her to come? O-or,” Richie said, turning a bit bashful, “If you really want to make my day, you could get her autograph for me? I know she doesn’t just give them out, but I swear I won’t sell it or anything! I’m a big fan, is all.”

Yeah, that was never going to happen. 

“Maybe,” Raihan said, giving one of his trademark smiles. It was a trait that was hard to say no to, or so he was told. Recent events made him think that perhaps it wasn’t as difficult as he’d been led to believe. He kept his tone noncommittal so as not to get Richie’s hopes up, but the employee didn’t seem to stop himself from doing so anyway. “But it might be hard. I’ll be honest, I don’t know about her as much as you do. Bit difficult to approach a person you don’t know. Right?”

There were practically hearts coming off of the guy, and Raihan couldn’t be sure that his words had gotten through. He had to wonder if this was how people saw his own fans. He knew it happened, but had never really interacted with someone this fanatical so closely. It was unsettling how much Richie glowed as he talked about his idol, blind to everything else. 

The expression was soon wiped, however, and replaced with something more sinister. 

“My friend,” Richie started, waggling his brow. In a moment of uncharacteristic shrewdness, continued, “you’ve come to the right guy. But you know what they say. Nothing comes for free.”

“The autograph?” 

“I knew you would get it!” Richie clapped his hands together, not unlike a child excited for dessert. “Well? What do you say?”

Again, it was never going to happen. Not in a million years. For one, Raihan, dragon tamer Raihan, rival to Leon himself, did not ask for autographs. He gave them. For another, he had reasonable suspicion to assume the person in question hated his guts. At the very least, you were spiteful enough to deny his request and laugh in his face while doing it. You’d get suspicious, and his plans would be laid bare. 

Just as he was weighing the pros and cons, the door behind him was pulled open. Raihan stepped to the side and watched as a middle-aged man, clad in the cafe’s uniform, marched outside.

“Richie, you were supposed to clock in half an hour ago,” he said, barely containing his voice, and only because he was keen on sucking up to the gym leader. “I’m sorry, Raihan, but this man has a job to attend to. We’d be happy to serve you. Inside.”

Richie looked ready to argue, but was stopped by a menacing finger from his boss. Once it was made clear who was in charge, all that was left to do was point towards the door. Slumping over, there was nothing the poor employee could do but listen. 

And there went possibly his only chance to make a deal without seeming creepy. Did he really want to let this slip by? It’s not like you were going to hold interviews any time soon. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Raihan blurted out as the door began closing, and Richie cheered before being subdued with another cold look from his superior. He raised his arm and gave Raihan a thumbs up before fully committing to his work, taking up a spot behind the cashier. 

As both figures receded into the building, Raihan couldn’t help but facepalm. He promised to get that autograph. 

Just how was he going to do that?

—

_Problem one with trying to get someone’s autograph: You had to know where they were first._

There was work, of course, but he actually had no idea what your schedule was or what you did ever since the gym tournament finished. He assumed you were doing _something_ right, because people had yet to complain about any loitering or rowdy behavior. And Arceus knew his employees hated both of those things. 

Not to mention, he also had things to do during the day. It wasn’t as busy as tournament season, but there were things to be signed and looked over, emails to be answered, and requests to fulfill. He basically acted as an entire secondary justice force and just about anyone who had a mild problem involving pokemon came up to him for advice or expected him to straight-up solve it. 

He was loathe to do it, especially since he knew how fast rumors travelled, but eventually he was reduced to asking around. He made sure to never do so outright, always grouping his questions so that you were never singled out. But no one knew a thing. You did your work, or did a good job of pretending you did, and got out. No one was close to you, on account of your prickly personality. Prickly was putting it mildly. 

A day or two passed with no progress, and it seemed he was doomed to forever speculating to himself, when he was given an out. He just so happened to be passing through the hall when he caught wind of two janitors talking to each other. They were both in good moods, which was already strange, and the fact that they even had the time to chat was a miracle. 

“What’re you two fine ladies up to?” Raihan asked. The two women didn’t seem to understand he was approaching them at first, looking around the empty hall before looking at each other. He let out a chuckle. “Yes, you two. Finished early today?”

“Y-yes, of course!” the younger one spluttered, wringing her hands together. “We wouldn’t slack off on the job. Never.”

“Easy, now. I know you two have been working here a while,” Raihan said. He didn’t want them to be nervous around him. He had questions to answer. Besides, he wasn’t lying. He recognized them as the part of the team who cleaned up the gym after official matches.

“You did?” the other squeaked. 

“Sure I have. The gym couldn’t function without you.”

The two seemed to have a secret conversation with their eyes as Raihan awaited their response. At one point the younger pushed the other a little with her hip, suppressing a small giggle. The other still seemed a bit concerned. She was the one that spoke up next. 

“Well as a matter of fact, we did finish early,” she started, words slowing as she spoke. Her coworker, or rather, friend, nudged her on. “A new employee came around and asked for the keys to the gym. She’s been cleaning it in the mornings. I don’t know why, but she was really insistent.”

“I see.” His eyes narrowed. He could think of a few reasons himself. The employee was nervous as it was, though, so he didn’t press her any further. 

“S-she specifically said not to tell you, though, so if you don’t mind…”

“Of course. My lips are sealed,” Raihan said, making a motion over his mouth in a zipping motion. He could only imagine what threat they’d been given to keep quiet, but whatever it was, they were clearly intimidated. The older one’s shoulders relaxed at last, and the other whispered a not-so-secret ‘I told you so’ into her ear. “Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me.”

The two janitors waved as they separated. But instead of walking past them, he paused, thinking up another question. 

“How’s the new employee, by the way? Anything you’d like to mention?”

The two scrunched their faces, though it wasn’t really a matter of distaste as it was confusion. 

“Quirks? She’s a bit scary,” the older one said. “But she keeps to herself. Doesn’t seem all that interested in mingling.”

“I tried saying hello the other day, and she completely ignored me!” The younger one pouted. “It’s like I was a ghost to her. But of course she saw us completely fine when she needed us for the keys…”

“I see. Maybe I’ll have to give her a talking to.”

Indeed, all that was left to do was crash the party.

—

_Problem two with trying to get someone’s autograph: You had to approach them._

He’d waken up early on a weekend for this, earlier than he even woke up for work. There was no reason he needed to do this other than to get the mission over with faster. It was also a gamble to assume that you’d be training even on the weekends, but from the sounds coming from inside of the building, he realized that he didn’t have to worry about time wasted. 

He let out another yawn as he approached the unlocked stadium, leaning against the doors as he waited for you to realize his entrance. As time passed, he came to the realization that you were far too absorbed to do this. 

Raihan stared for an indeterminate amount of time. There was something about you that was impossible to look away from. It was like how someone like Leon managed to bring all attention to himself without trying. Maybe that was a quality that all champions had.

Even at the party, when he did his usual bored scan of the room, his eyes had caught on to the sight of your figure disappearing from the curtains. Absurd, he’d thought. But based on the way that situation turned out, and the fact that his peripheral vision had been correct? Perhaps it hadn’t been so absurd after all. 

Absol’s legs were shaking as he tried to remain standing, his breaths ragged. Even Serperior’s movements didn’t look as fast as he remembered them being in their previous battle, though she kept her usual composure. They’d been at it for a while. 

The other pokemon had taken to watching from the sidelines in a neat and methodical row, eyes flitting from side to side as they watched their teammate get beaten down over and over with neutral expressions. Occasionally they would stare at their trainer, but they weren’t spared a single glance. 

That was enough, wasn’t it? Absol couldn’t last much longer. But you continued to order him to attack, always finding some problem to nitpick at. 

“Someone’s up early,” he said, approaching once he felt he’d been a bystander for too long. And even then, you remained entirely focused on the pokemon. It wasn’t often people disregarded him, and so effectively at that. His tone slipped and he sounded noticeably more tired as he went on, “Who said you could use the stadium?”

This wasn’t worth it. He could’ve been in bed right now, or even eating breakfast at some nice establishment if he wanted to be fancy. But no. He woke up to crash someone else’s insane training regimen. 

He continued the conversation regardless, managing to rely on his natural gifts to carry him despite the sleep that remained in his eyes. Just smile. Everything worked out when he smiled and kept his cool.

Asking for your autograph outright wasn’t going to work. Not to mention, it went against everything his pride stood for. It had been bruised enough by this side quest. But to even find an opportunity, he’d have to get a little bit closer, at least. And what better way than to invite you to breakfast? He was hungry, and he assumed you hadn’t had anything to eat either, just based on how cranky you were. Or was that how you always were?

Whatever, he managed to convince you to come and eat, and Absol was saved. Raihan didn’t miss the way the pokemon collapsed onto his knees as he was called back to the pokeball. 

—

_Problem three with trying to get someone’s autograph: They had to like you first. Or at least not hate you._

He was trying to make this a pleasant outing, he really was. There wasn’t much he could do with his fans, but he tried to remain courteous throughout, despite the blatant disrespect you displayed towards them. 

When the food did come, he no longer felt hungry enough. Words slipped out that weren’t supposed to. 

Smiling was an asset of his. With a smile, he was able to solve more problems than not. But it became increasingly difficult with this new person around to hide behind it. His cards, so carefully hidden, were tossed onto the table for all to see. 

Vulpix and Charizard. Skarmory and Absol. Snivy and Serperior. There was a pattern there, but it didn’t make any sense to him. The way you stared at him as if he was the mystery, and he had to hold back a scoff. 

And since when were you allowed to be a fan of Leon? Not that you needed his permission, but what made him and the ex-champion so different? They both lost, in the end. They were both popular, charismatic guys. But only one was worth your respect, apparently. 

He smiled, amused by the relative ease with which you admitted it, but felt another part of him grow annoyed by the fact. 

Raihan and Leon. Add that to the growing list. 

The thoughts were still swirling in his mind when you slammed your hands on the table and leaned forward. Somehow, he already knew the words that would come out of your mouth. Actually, maybe it wasn’t all that surprising. There was only one thing about you that was certain. 

Your life revolved around battles. Simple as that. 

—

_Problem four with trying to get someone’s autograph: You had to ask for it first._

Amidst all the challenging, running away from fans, and losing a pokeball, Raihan hardly had the time to remember his original intentions. It was the mess that poked him awake, reminding him of his duties as the gym leader. 

All gym employees were required to sign a contract. Scratch that, all _gym trainers_ were required to sign one. He hadn’t intended on choosing you, but his plans to secretly choose someone via advertisement had been a bust, Sebastian was already gone, and you’d proven that you could still battle, at least. He had to do something about that Charizard of yours, and find a way to get you to hold back, but he had time. Gym season had just ended, after all. 

Most important of all, contracts meant signatures. Exactly what he needed, without the hassle of asking you upfront. It was a win-win, as far as he was concerned. Was this illegal? A little bit, but you’d probably done worse.

“Why did you help me? You should’ve just left for your house.”

The answer was simple, of course. He just wanted the signature. It would be easy enough to wave off the question with some light remark, but his thoughts paused. 

But she was right. Even if he were to answer honestly, which why would he, when he wanted to live to see another day, why did he want the signature? Why did he go through all this trouble?

The answer, which should have been simple, both to obtain and to answer, wasn’t simple at all.

—

Raihan refused to meet in the cafe again. It was humiliating, for one, even on an off-day, to imagine that a fan could be lurking around the corner and listening in as he tried to probe Richie for answers. So the two agreed to meet at the gym.

“Do you have it?” was the first thing Richie asked, and he didn’t bother to hide the squeal that came out when the scrap of paper was handed to him. His thumbs brushed over the lettering as if they were ancient runes that held the secrets of the universe. “I can’t believe this. You really did it. How?”

“Don’t ask,” Raihan said. He managed to pass it off as a joke but feeling genuine relief when Richie made no further attempts to dig deeper. “You ready to talk now?”

“Of course! Ask me anything. Gosh, you’re so lucky to work with her every day,” he started, not giving Raihan the chance to start speaking. He began babbling away as he was prone to do. Useless things, about how cool she was (psh, more like hot-headed), how strong she was (strong, but he technically beat her that first time), and how graceful (literally fell from a building), beautiful (cute at best), and so on and so forth. He did notice a few words never came up. Kind, for one. Understanding. Sweet. 

“If only I could’ve seen her battle in person just once!” Richie sighed, deflating in his seat. In contrast, Raihan sat straighter. Finally, something useful! “I had a mind to go to Unova, but by the time I had the means, she’d already taken off. But who knew she came to Galar!”

“Hold up. If you’ve never been there, then how did you know about her in the first place? There’s basically nothing online.”

“I don’t know where it all went. I should’ve downloaded more articles while I still had the chance,” he said. “But I still remember the interview. Leon mentioned her, way back when. Said he was a big fan.”

Leon? Interviews? This was news. Leon was too busy to do any interviews. It’d been years since his last one, not that it wasn’t understandable. How could he spare the time, when he was already doing so much? Even now, he basically had two jobs with the Battle Tower and being chairman. 

Then again, Raihan had thought it strange back then, too. The day Leon mentioned Iris becoming champion, he had been more subdued than normal. Even if the two weren’t the closest, it wasn’t like the guy. Anything battling-related, and especially champion-related was bound to get a big reaction. At the time Raihan had brushed it off thinking it had to do with Leon’s increasingly hectic schedule combined with not having the time to visit his cousin to congratulate her in person, but perhaps it really had been something else. 

How had he not known? Leon should’ve mentioned you at least once, if he was a fan. 

Wait, this was his chance to ask a question! Richie was still looking expectantly at him, judging his reaction. Raihan cleared his throat. 

“That’s great and all, but do you know anything else? Say, her team?”

“Her team! Gosh, what _doesn’t_ she have? She was always swapping members, and they were all top-notch. Ah, but she usually kept Serperior in the roster.” Richie stroked his chin. “You know, they never recorded the champion matches. Most of the battles I’ve seen were from the Battle Subway. But I heard she had a special pokemon for her challengers. The ones that made it through Victory Road, I mean.”

Raihan inadvertently began inching closer. Richie, too, began whispering, even though there was no one else in the building. 

“What pokemon?” 

“I don’t know. They say it was a dragon.” Richie grinned. “One look and you’re shook to your core. Some challengers forfeited the moment they saw it.”

“Dragon? That’s not possible,” Raihan found himself blurting out. “She hates dragons.”

“I didn’t know _you_ were the expert.”

“Er, sorry.”

If she had a dragon, then why didn’t she just use that for the gym battles? Scratch that, if she had so many pokemon, then surely she must’ve had a Hydreigon or Haxorus or Druddigon or anything that wasn’t a Charizard to battle with? Was she that hellbent on going against the theme?

Something buzzed. Raihan’s hand went to his pocket but it wasn’t his phone that had rung, but Richie’s. 

“Looks like I have to go. It was good talking to you!” The young man stood up and began shuffling towards the door. Raihan took a moment to collect his thoughts before scrambling up himself.

“Richie, wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You do know she was kicked out of the League, right?”

For the first time that day, Richie’s face scrunched up into something less than positive. 

“It’s a shame,” he said. “A real shame.” Whether he meant the fact that she was kicked out, or for her reprehensible actions, Raihan never found out, as Richie skipped out the door, chipper as ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right folks, a peek into the Dragon Tamer's mind himself!
> 
> On another note, I will likely be busy for the forseeable future. I'll do my best of course, but I apologize in advance if the upload schedule for chapters becomes spotty.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. [Nine; Old training notes were shoved under your bed.]

You finished training early. Rather, you finished on time, because Absol had actually done a decent job today. You didn’t have to hang back and work overtime just to clean up its moves, and even got to work on a new strategy. You felt more productive than you had in a long while. 

However, instead of leaving right away, you called all your pokemon back and made your way back up to the bleachers. This time you sat in the seats farthest away. Even at this distance you couldn’t take in the entire stadium at once. 

The quiet wasn’t very fun. Granted, you preferred it to crowds, but that was because your tolerance for idiots was too low for your own good. And god knew how many idiots gathered in a crowd. 

There was a time when quiet meant an opportunity to look back on accomplishments or think of the next thing to do. Now all that echoed in your head was failure. There was no next step. 

Your hand snaked its way to your belt, a current running through your arm as you brushed up against the pokeball you had nearly lost a few weeks before. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if you hadn’t found it. Quit?

It felt as if you were thinking a million things, but nothing in particular stood out to you. In the end, it was the same as thinking about nothing at all. Perhaps you shouldn’t have cut the session short. 

“Well this is new. No slave-driving today?” Raihan’s voice cut in from behind you. He said that, but he still came every week to invite you for breakfast. You had yet to make sense of his reasoning. “Then how about—“

“We never started that battle,” you said, standing up before he could recommend some new place to eat. Breakfast wouldn’t do your jitters any good, and you weren’t hungry anyway. You moved your hand away to a different pokeball, feeling it expand as you pressed down on the button. “So we’re doing it now.”

—

If training calmed you down then battles were what energized you. Your problems would melt away as you focused on shooting out this and that command, figuring out what your opponent was thinking before they thought to think it, taking stock of their moves and quirks you could use against them. In battles, it was okay to think in terms of black and white. Decisions had to be made quickly and without hesitation, or you’d lose everything. 

That said, this was not one of those battles.

As Flygon toppled to the ground, you returned Serperior back into its ball, pausing to watch Raihan as he gritted his teeth before throwing out his next pokemon and last pokemon. Duraludon. 

Without your temper coming into play, as well as being more in tune with battling, the current battle was turning out a lot better than last time. Granted, Raihan was still doing better than you’d hoped.

It was always easier when you knew the opponent’s team. Even easier considering Raihan only looked to have 8 pokemon he actually used for battle, give or take. You already had the advantage, knowing they were mostly dragons, of course, but specifics were important. But you had to wonder how Raihan managed to stay the top gym leader when his team was so inefficient. Even his movesets remained the same as the last battle. 

That was what made it all the more frustrating. He was squandering everything in order to put himself into an arbitrary box, and for what? Publicity? Surely people would watch him at this point regardless? Carving a niche this deep into his career was doing him more harm than good, and you had to wonder if the frustration he showed during champion battles was even genuine.

This was why you didn’t battle second-place losers. But considering your position, you didn’t have much say in the matter, did you?

“Absol, you’re next.”

“You sure about that?” Raihan said, blinking as he watched the pokemon jump out into position. Its breaths were still uneven from the training, balance faltering for a moment before remembering the situation. 

“Shut up and battle.” You tossed the pokeball up and down a few times as you waited for your opponent to make a move. “And Absol, I expect you to take Duraludon down.”

It was getting hotter in the room now, and you had to push up your sleeves to keep from overheating. Looking at Raihan, he was similarly uncomfortable in his jacket, but refused to take it off. 

The pokemon gave a resolute nod as it stepped closer towards the center, digging its claws into the floor to steady itself. 

Raihan shook off his hesitation and barked another order. Surely you had a plan in mind. And as a matter of fact, you did. 

You folded you arms and waited. Absol did not dare look back at you and instead stood tall despite the slight quake in its stance from exhaustion, nor did it take a step back. Even as Duraludon threw itself up into the air, hurtling towards the ground at unthinkable speed, you only watched as your pokemon was flattened beneath the weight, struggling to push the opponent off of its back. 

The pokemon fell off on its own before returning to the opposite side of the battlefield. Absol was still hunched over on the ground, struggling to move. Its head wobbled, blinking at a rate that was more akin to resting its eyes than anything else. 

“Get up.”

Throughout all this, Raihan did not make any calls for another move. You could feel his judgement boring through you as you repeated your command. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Absol crawled its way back into a standing position. You nodded to yourself.

“Aren’t you going to call out a move?” 

Raihan mumbled something under his breath as his eyes narrowed, but he relented, calling Duraludon for another Body Press. You wasted no time this turn to call out a move. 

“Sucker Punch.”

In a most satisfying display, Absol launched up to strike, mustering enough force to cause Duraludon to come crashing back down onto the ground with a crash. Debris flew up into the air and got into your eyes, but you didn’t let them close. 

“Now finish it off with a Superpower!” 

Another wave of who-knows-what made its way into your eyes as the distinct sound of metal rang out through the stadium. Absol remained the only pokemon standing for a moment, gazing over Duraludon with a satisfied expression before turning around to look at you. It took a few unsteady steps forward before tumbling to the ground and fainting on the spot. 

“Looks like you lost,” you said, putting Absol back into it’s ball. 

“You really want to say that now, after what you put your pokemon through? That was completely unnecessary!” 

“Sounds like something a sore loser would say.” You were unable to hide the smirk rising on the corner of your lip.

“You—!” He stopped his marching to let out a strangled scream, snapping his headband a few times before readjusting it. He kicked away at some of the remaining spikes. “You are the last person I want to hear that from.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he said, all too tiredly. He turned his head towards the door. “Damn, this sucks. It’s been a while since I lost to someone that’s not a champion.”

You breathed in, ready to murder, before reminding yourself that there was no reason to get worked up because you _won_ , and that was all that mattered. Won, and you didn’t even need to use—You shook your head and moved onto other thoughts. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid thinking about. But it was too late, and all of your smugness had already gone, flattened into nothing at all. 

“Maybe you would’ve had a chance if your team didn’t suck.” You intended for that quip to be the last of it. Raihan would retort in kind and then he’d force you to go eat breakfast in the name of retribution, if he was still in the mood to look at your face. 

“It doesn’t—“

You lifted a finger in front of his face, which succeeded in stopping whatever train of thought he was about to follow. There was something about him that made your blood boil in that moment, and you thought it had something to do with the fact that he honestly didn’t seem to understand _why_ he’d lost. He’d rather lecture you on proper conduct than reflect on himself, which was telling. 

“It sucks.” Reiterating the statement felt so cathartic that you were unable to stop yourself. “What the fuck do you have three weather setters for? And _two_ of them are for sun? Turtonator is too slow to be setting anything up in the first place!”

You paused, only to make sure that Raihan wasn’t about to try and argue. Surprisingly, he held his tongue. In turn, you raised another one of your fingers. 

“Goodra’s Thunder and Hydro Pump are completely useless when it’s up. Not to mention, it’s the only one that benefits from rain. What, did you run out of dragons that wanted to be on your team or something? Can’t say I blame them, if all you’re gonna do is show up every year and lose in front of the crowd a few times during the tournament.”

You began to circle him, feeling and inexplicable urge to move around lest you burn up as you talked, stuck between taunting and feeling legitimately cheated out of a battle worth going through. He still didn’t say a word, but you filled in the gaps yourself, going ahead and making up an argument in his stead.

“But fine. Weather is your thing. People want to see weather. Let’s think for a second, what pokemon is your star player again?” You gave mock pause, never intending to get an answer or letting an answer be spoken. “Oh right, it’s Duraludon! A pokemon that even _need_ weather!”

Your arms flailed on their own as they searched for a place to throw off their excess energy to, but still you felt trapped in yourself. You knew in the back of your mind that you were going overboard, but the outburst felt good. For a moment you could throw out your frustrations of the world for a reason entirely unrelated to the things you couldn’t control. 

“If you’re going to do weather, then at least get a bigger roster. Or is it your mission to make your next move that obvious?” you said, taking a large breath. You finally locked onto his eyes, which had progressively widened through your tirade. Your fingers curled into a fist as you let it back down to your side. “You don’t have a weather team. You have the idea of a weather team. And that’s why you’ll never win against a champion.”

There was a simultaneous rush of adrenaline and regret as you spat out the last few words, and you had to take a step back as a bout light-headedness passed through. 

But he had to know this was only the truth. The way his team was organized was clearly variety for sake of the crowd and not conducive to winning. Sure, you could’ve said it nicely. Would it have the same impact?

That was the thing about people. Too often when faced with the scathing truth, they would deny, deny, and deny some more. It was anything but them that led up to their loss. They’d make the same mistakes over and over again than admit their wrongs and take responsibility. Cotton candy words were all they wanted to hear. They’d nod their heads, say they were working on it, and ultimately change nothing at all.

You were surprised, though. A normal person would’ve snapped back by now, or at least stomped their way out. Maybe he was too prideful for that. The entire time, he’d locked eyes with you, mouth drawn into a taut line in varying degrees as you raked him over the coals. 

He opened his mouth, and you braced yourself for an argument.

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

Oh. 

For a moment you were at a loss for words as you repeated the question over and over again in your mind, combing through every word and trying to find any hint of sarcasm. You couldn’t find any. The regret crept up on you just a little bit more.

Maybe you hadn’t given him enough credit.

“Read.” The word slipped out as easily as the rest of your ranting, and though you hadn’t thought of the idea until then, rang just as true. 

“Read,” Raihan repeated, voice flat. 

You felt another wave of indignation rising up within you but you forced it down this time. 

“Yes, read. Not one of your internet articles. A book with physical pages.” You tried to think of a good way to pull him in, the best features to show off to a person who thought he had everything he needed in his pocket, but there was nothing. On the surface, books seemed like a weak solution. You were losing his attention, his spotty, deteriorated attention, all too fast. “Look, I’ll let you borrow some of mine.”

You began walking towards the doors and swiveled when you noticed Raihan’s footsteps weren’t following. 

“Wait, we’re going now?” he asked. 

“We both know we’re never going to do it later.” You continued walking, but he still didn’t move. Your hand gripped onto the doorframe as you swung back to say, “Yes, _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting heated in the pokemon battling fandom
> 
> It's always tricky to find the right balance for describing pokemon battles or how long they should be. They're a lot easier to make exciting when you can actually see what's happening, haha. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	10. [Ten; Breakfast sandwiches were your favorite.]

You said _now_ with the utmost sense of urgency, but that was for show. In reality, both of you needed help in healing up your respective teams. At least it was on the way. 

The Pokemon Center’s fluorescent pink roof was plain to see even from far away, your pace quickening as you approached. Better to get the experience over with than to drag it out. 

As you opened the door, letting it close on Raihan’s face, you were met with all-too friendly employees that bowed as you walked in. Their expressions brightened after glancing at who followed in after, smiles stretching wider. 

The nurse’s hair matched the bright pink roof, and you had to wonder if they dyed it that way, or if it was policy to only hire carbon copies of the same person. Hah, imagine that. One of the biggest industries across all major regions, a family business. 

You dropped Absol’s pokeball into the hand of the nurse. She fumbled with it for a moment, managing to keep from dropping the capsule onto the tiled floor. A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she scratched her cheek, turning to place the pokeball on the machine that sat behind, humming quietly in the background. 

If being a nurse these days meant putting pokeballs into high-tech egg cartons and pressing a button, maybe you’d chosen the wrong profession to get into. 

“No other pokemon?” the nurse asked, eyes flitting down to your belt as her hand hovered over the machine’s control panel. 

“None.” Her face reddened as you leaned over the counter to drawl out your words, “Are you going to heal my pokemon now?”

“O-of course.” The nurse whirled back around and tapped a few buttons as Absol’s health profile flickered onscreen. She took on a more professional air as the facts trickled in, her shoulders squaring as she jotted down some notes. “It looks like he’s been through a lot of strain. I recommend toning down whatever activity he’s been participating in for the time being. Nothing is a substitute for a few days of rest.”

Her mouth continued to move up and down even as you tuned her out, concentrating on the other sections of the establishment. Even the Pokemon Centers were more upscale in Galar. A cafe? Really?

Raihan sidled up to the counter as well, setting down his entire team atop it. You swore the nurse batted her eyelashes a few times before approaching, putting a demure hand on her cheek. How professional of her. 

“Welcome back,” she said, an octave higher than she had gone for you. And that was saying something, considering how squeaky she’d already been. “How is your team doing?”

“Not the best, considering I’m here.” He gave her a wry smile, but from the way she laughed, a person would’ve thought she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Thanks for all the hard work.”

“Just doing my job,” she giggled. “The both of you can get your pokemon back within the hour. You can wait in the building or we can notify you via text if you prefer.”

“I’ll wait.” 

You sat yourself down on one of the empty cafe seats, glad to see that you were the only customer around. Not that it mattered, because Raihan went and sat on the seat across from you anyway.

“You really aren’t going to get your other pokemon checked out?”

“No.” 

Silence. 

“This is usually the part where you explain your reasoning. And then I either agree or disagree.”

“I just fell out of the habit,” you said. 

The air wasn’t as sterile as you remembered it being. A little decoration went a long way. Still, your foot tapped against the floor as you watched the blue screen in the back of the room as the nurse continued to tend to the pokemon. Every so often, you’d watch her glance over at Raihan scrolling through his phone and sigh. The other half of the time, you’d purposefully lock eyes with her, just to see her reaction. She’d hide her face behind her clipboard before scurrying away, heels clicking against the floor in shame. 

“Are we really waiting? It’d be faster to go right now and pick up our pokemon later.”

“We’re waiting.” Your tone did not leave for argument and he simply sighed before standing up to stretch. 

“Then I’m getting something to eat. I’ll get you whatever.”

Before you could say you weren’t hungry, he was already on his merry way, whistling as he walked out the building.

Without Raihan around to lighten the mood for everyone, you were finally spared some peace and quiet. 

This had been the first time in several years that you came to a Pokemon Center. Deep down, you were glad that Unova and Galar were so different in their approaches to the building. It was easier to pretend you were somewhere else that way. 

The visits stopped shortly after becoming the champion. At first it was simply that you had no time, or at least that was what you told yourself. It meant you could know your pokemon better and so long as they didn’t faint outright, it wasn’t all that difficult. All that had to change was how soon you returned your pokemon to their pokeballs. 

It was for no other reason, no reason at all, you repeated to yourself as you put a hand over your belt, counting them over and over again as you looked out the window at nothing in particular. The chime of the doors opening hardly registered in your mind.

“Hey,” a voice purred. Just some guy. You didn’t have to turn to know it wasn’t Raihan. He wasn’t nearly as tall. Besides, that gym leader didn’t bother with his flirting around you. “I saw you staring at me from across the street.”

Sure was a nice day out. Not too hot. If the weather continued like this throughout the week, you might even consider training outside again. It’d be good to switch up the terrain once in a while, and your pokemon would get to go out again. The Wild Area did have a tendency to change from below freezing to sweltering on a whim, though. 

The sounds of a chair scraping against the floor graced your ears as something blocked your wonderful view, replacing it with a person decidedly not as wonderful. Not even close And yup, it was just as you thought. He was a nobody. 

“You should really listen when someone’s talking. Not a good look for you,” the man said, smirking as he looked down at his nails. “Or maybe you’re just shy?”

At first you contemplated continuing to stare as if he were invisible, but came to the conclusion that such a course of action would only spur on further comments. 

“You rich?”

Perhaps it was your not-Galarian accent that made him reel back in his seat. You wouldn’t want him missing anything, though, so you made sure to lean forward in turn. 

“W-what?” he managed to splutter out, forgetting his self-satisfied grin. You made a show of scanning him top-down, from his stupid hat to his collared shirt. It had stains on the cuffs. 

“So that’s a no. Fine. Can you battle?”

“I’ll have you know I was a gym challenger, back in the day.”

“Did you win?”

“I even got through Kabu—“

You didn’t know who this Kabu was, but you did know that Raihan was the last gym leader. And if he couldn’t even beat Raihan, then all of this was pointless. 

“Not interested.”

You pulled back in your seat and stood up before finding another free table, taking out your phone to check the time. Fifteen minutes and counting. Still a ways to go until Absol was ready to be taken back. 

“Laugh it up, why don’t you.” Your phone was snatched out of your hands. You made no attempt to take it back, staring at him with an unimpressed expression quite the opposite of a person that thought they were partaking in comedy. He didn’t seem to read the memo and continued, “All I did was partake in harmless conversation, is that so bad? You were the one who led me on in the first place! You did it on purpose!”

For all the times you’d lamented your customer service jobs, they sure did come in handy when blocking out people unsatisfied with you. The same lethargy as back then rolled over you as it all came back to you. Despite it only having been a few months since being fired, and despite the fact that said period had sucked more than a couple years away from you, it felt like an eternity away. 

Once more, you couldn’t imagine a routine that didn’t include early mornings checking up on your pokemon and knowing you were _doing_ something with yourself, a routine where nightfall came and you held off crashing onto your bed because there was still more hours left in you. 

Perhaps you’d been spoiled by the freedoms of your new job, because it was all too similar to what it was back in Unova, and now you were reminded of those times all over again. It was a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. 

A single blink later, and somehow Raihan had come back and set down a plastic bag on the table after failing to grab your attention.

“Do you know this guy?” he asked. His smile was carefree, but there was a strain in his voice that revealed his impatience. “He has your phone.”

You shrugged, though it was amusing to watch the man’s bravado be sapped away at the realization of just who had come to interrupt his ranting. 

Raihan held out his hand. The phone was handed back over without a single word of complaint. Once that was done, Raihan pointed at the door, which the man nearly ran into as he hightailed it out. 

The atmosphere immediately brightened as employees let out a collective sigh. If the situation had escalated any further, they would’ve had to intervene. 

“Took you long enough,” you said, picking at the plastic bag. Sandwiches. One of them was marked ‘Raihan’ so you assumed the other was for you. When you ripped open the parchment, you were surprised to see your exact order, and took a moment to take inventory of every layer to make sure you weren’t imagining things. You took a bite. Didn’t seem like he put anything strange in there. An excessive amount of hot sauce, yes, but he didn’t have to know that you liked the stuff. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t make a scene,” Raihan said, pulling out a chair. Quietly. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your brow arched as you swallowed the first bite. “I’m always like this.”

He snorted.

“Sure.” 

There was a moment where he waited for you to come back with another quip, something to show you were being sarcastic. Of course, you weren’t being sarcastic, so there was no comeback to be had. As he realized this, he grew thoughtful instead, like he was recalling something, or multiple things.

He just so happened to have all the makings of a person that made your blood boil. Saccharine sweet towards the people that didn’t know him. Putting image before results. Cocky without the champion title to back him up. Personality and battle-wise, there was something about the two of you that would never match up. 

But it wasn’t just that. No, if it was only that, you would’ve dismissed him like everyone else you thought was too insignificant to be worth your time. 

Then what was it? You wracked your brain, but were interrupted before you could arrive at an answer.

“So how many pokemon do you have, exactly?” he asked. Huh? You must have blanked out for more than a few seconds, because he cleared his throat after a moment. “How many pokemon—“

“I heard you the first time,” you snapped.

“It was just a question,” he said, picking up his own sandwich. “Or do you want me to guess? I mean you’re the one who started it, saying my roster is too small.”

There was a dryness in your mouth that wasn’t there before. You reached for your cup, in hopes that you could sip slowly enough that you’d never have to answer, but of course, there was no cup. Your hand grasped around nothing but air as you stared down at the table.

“I’ve only seen seven of your pokemon myself. And the one you released,” he said with a hum. “Oh, and that dragon.”

The itchiness behind your throat grew, to the point that when you spoke, you weren’t sure that anyone would be able to come out. But the words did come out, however small. 

“How do you know about that?” 

You looked around the room, and though there weren’t any more people than before, the walls felt ever closer, the whispers louder. The you of today was a nobody, you knew that. People were only staring because their city’s gym leader was sitting amongst them, taking secret pictures as if he was to dumb to notice. Not that it mattered, when they’d post those same photos to their social media later, exposing themselves of their actions. 

The current became more evident around your hip, and you had to stop yourself from fiddling with your belt again.

When you looked back at Raihan, he had rocked back on his chair with a furrowed brow, like he couldn’t quite see all of you without leaning. Or maybe that was a rare moment of regret that flashed on his face? It was impossible to discern. He had yet to answer the question, and from the looks of things, it would be a while yet. 

“Would the owner of Absol please come up to the counter, he’s ready to be taken back. And Raihan, your pokemon have been healed as well.”

The nurse’s announcement would have flown over your head if she hadn’t mentioned your pokemon’s name, which managed to worm its way into your mind even when distracted. Your legs managed to stand up on their own and take back what was rightfully yours, and Raihan did the same. 

Your grip on the pokeball was too tight as you exited the Pokemon Center, walking away without even throwing away your food. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” you said.

It had suddenly occurred to you why Raihan frustrated you so much, and the bite in your tone came back to you.

He was just so damn insistent on intruding your life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for updates! Hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^


	11. [Eleven; Apologies were given only when you meant them.]

The walk was not a pleasant one. Even though you ordered Raihan to walk six feet behind you at all times, there was still the feeling that people were watching as he trailed behind you. His steps were too loud against the cobbled streets and the occasional camera sounded off. You didn’t bother to check if it was from him or someone else, brushing back the hair that fell in front of your face as you forced your shoulders straight. 

Your only solace came from the fact that Raihan didn’t attempt any conversation, but even that hope was dashed when he started texting you all of his complaints. 

_How much longer?_

_We’ve been walking for almost an hour._

_You could’ve at least let me finish my food…_

You were inches away from whipping around and giving him a piece of your mind, if nothing else. Even _your_ feet were beginning to hurt from all the whining, and you had to make this commute every day. 

This was a terrible idea. Why were you taking him to your house, again? You should’ve just brought the books on Monday and thrown them at his face. You could’ve sent him a link to an e-book, since he loved his phone so much. Alternatively, you could’ve pointed him towards the nearest library, which he clearly needed to make a habit of frequenting. There was time to turn him around and bid him goodbye, you could still do that. And this time, you had fair reason to do so. Privacy was a thing that people needed to respect.

If this wasn’t a public area, it would’ve been a good opportunity to slam your head into another wall. Your brain only worked properly for battles, evidently.

It didn’t seem like the day would come, but eventually your apartment came into view. As with the rest of the city, the building was made up of a dark brick with multiple cramped floors where each resident made their homes in. Even considering the fact that this was closer to the outskirts of the city, arguably not even able to be called ‘city’ anymore, the rent was way too damn high. That being said, you were not about to give up your spot to someone else any time soon. It was hard to find a place to live in Hammerlocke as it was. 

You did suppose there were Battle Cafes located in Wyndon and Motostoke as well, but moving was such a hassle, even if you didn’t have the most things. The gym paid better, anyway. And how often did you get to practice in a real stadium anymore?

Then again, Wyndon did have the Battle Tower. Surely, in a place like that, you’d be able to find a worthwhile battle. You couldn’t just train by yourself all the time. What was all of it for if not to find a person here or there to pummel? And your pokemon were definitely itching for a proper battle, after that last one with Raihan. 

If you were lucky, maybe you could even get a chance to challenge Leon. His Charizard was probably stronger, considering how long he had it and all of the experience, but you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to use your own against it. And if you remembered correctly, he had a Haxorus as well…

He wasn’t a dragon-master, but perhaps the affinity for the type ran in the family.

Were battles from the Battle Tower publicized? You wracked your brain, trying to recall if you’d ever seen anything other than promotional footage. It was hard to tell if you couldn’t think of anything because it was that difficult to get to the top, or if you hadn’t seen it, with how rarely you hopped on your phone.

“Uh, you stopped. I assume you live here?” Raihan said, cutting into your thoughts. You shook your head, focusing on the situation at hand. The man looked dubiously at the building. Of course he did. With his paycheck, he could probably afford to rent out the entire thing. Still, you had to take a bit of offense at the plain distaste written on his face.

There had been a few times where you’d been forced to live in the Wild Area when your savings ran out, and compared to that, your flat might as well have been heaven. You were definitely not planning on going back, not without a fight. At least when you were in Unova, you had becoming the champion to look forward to. Now it just meant you were unable to keep a steady job. 

You held up a hand to signal Raihan to stop, his hand already preparing to open up the door. Before you went inside, you looked both ways to check no one was on the street. This area was far from the main attractions of the city, so there wasn’t much reason for people to be on the lookout for any celebrities, but it was better to be careful than not. 

Once you were certain that there was no paparazzi about to jump you two, you opened up the door and walked up the stairs. The scent of smoke lingered in the air and you switched to breathing through your mouth. 

“Stop stomping around so much, they’re gonna file another complaint against me,” you said, sometime around the second flight. Seriously, the man had no delicacy. He was more of a wild animal than your own pokemon. At least your pokemon listened to you. 

There was a residue on the floors that made your shoes stick with every step, which was confirmed to be an abandoned latte that had been spilled and neglected to be cleaned once you reached the top. With a grunt, you picked the half-full cup from the ground, making sure not to get anything on your hands. Without you around, you were certain that the entire stairwell would be a waterfall of trash.

Having just come from the squeaky-clean gym, you had to stop yourself from making a retching noise. From behind you, Raihan let out a puff of breath.

“Yeah, yeah, please just tell me we’re finally here,” he said as the two of you entered a narrow hallway. The fact that Raihan was so tall only amplified the feeling that the building wasn’t built large enough. 

You stopped in the middle of the hall and slotted in your keys before pushing the door open. It took a bit of effort since the hinges weren’t oiled properly and you only had one hand, but it eventually gave way, making a horrendous squeaking as it turned. At least it made it in one piece. 

“Wait here,” you started, before deciding it wasn’t worth risking the possibility of a neighbor taking notice of the giant lumbering in the halls. “Never mind, close the door behind you. Wait wherever you want.”

Before you turned you caught him ducking as came inside and stifled a snicker. Lucky for him, the ceilings were just a bit taller inside the actual flats. His back would survive another day, though he could still reach for the ceiling if he tried.

“Your house looks really normal,” he said as you tossed the cursed cup into the trashcan, washing your hands thoroughly in the kitchenette’s sink. From his tone, it could be assumed that was supposed to be a compliment. What was he expecting, exactly?

Shrugging, you wiped down your hands with a hand towel before making your way into your bedroom. You passed by your neatly-made bed and opened up the sliding door to your closet. On the right were your clothes. Most of them hadn’t been worn in years ever since you gave up on looking presentable, but clothes were not what you were there for. 

On the left was the bookshelf you had lugged up the stairs the very day you moved in and nearly died setting inside. It was worth it, though. The black lacquer clashed against the otherwise cottage aesthetic you had inadvertently built up in the rest of the flat, but it was made up for by the fact that it looked so much more well made than all of those things combined. Considering you’d found it laying out in the street, it was a good find. It was certainly more expensive than anything else in your room.

The books were organized by author in alphabetical order. Running your index finger down the spines, you tried to find a book that would suit someone like Raihan. Nothing too in-depth, or he wouldn’t read it. Then something with diagrams, maybe? Or better yet, with color pictures. The old ones tended to be quite dense, so those were a no-go, and the ones newly published weren’t in there. You closed the door and went to your nightstand.

There were two stacks of books sitting on top, bookmarked and ready to be reread. Checking the titles you nodded to yourself. Strategy books, breeding guides, records of famous battles and trainers. Stuff everyone expected out of you. The useful ones. You unstuck some of the more conspicuous sticky notes and crumpled them up in your hand, tossing them into the nearby waste bin, brimming with assortment of papers. These would do just fine. 

Taking a random assortment from the first stack, you somehow managed to keep the integrity of the tower, though you didn’t like how it wobbled as you backed away. 

“I got the books,” you said, closing the door behind you with a foot, only to find Raihan rummaging through your fridge. 

“Hot sauce, eggs, and beer?” he said, lifting his head as he noticed you coming back. “You can’t be serious.”

“Who gave you permission to look around?” you said, slamming down the stack of books on the dining table. “We only came here for the books.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Good for you. Take these and get out.”

Instead of listening to your request like a sensible person, he closed the fridge door and walked around the room. 

There were no decorations to speak of, with only a sofa and coffee table serving as the living room, while a few feet away was the dining area consisting of a plain wooden table and two chairs. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to get two in the first place, but you supposed it came in handy now that you had a guest over. There weren’t even any curtains on the windows. Not that you needed any, considering the window was face-to-face with a brick wall. But so long as the floors had no mud and surfaces remained dust-free, it was good enough for you. 

He picked up a stray paper that had been shoved under the sofa. Your stomach bubbled up with a reaction fiercer than you had when you picked up that cup. 

“Unovan Times…” he muttered, before you snatched the newspaper away from him. The paper was too delicate for such an action, and ripped at the corners but you didn’t pause to judge the extent of the damage, kicking it back under the seat. You pointed towards the door, blinking a few times in order to restore your spotted vision, but to no avail.

“Out.”

“Plenty of people would pay to have me come over. You could act a little more excited.”

“Are you deaf? Because I’ve told you to leave more than once and you’re still here.”

“Is it because of that question from before?” He grunted as you shoved the books into his arms. “Look, you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, I was just curious.”

Curiosity was no reason to do half the things he did. Curiosity was wondering if a person liked mornings or evenings, or tea or coffee. It was not a free pass to prying open your life like some damn exhibit, and especially not a reason to know things that he had no reason to know. The knowledge itself was dangerous to you, and you’d have preferred if he’d kept it to himself.

“I don’t care how famous you are, or how much other people like you,” you said, jaw locking as you stepped forward, backing him into the door. The only thing keeping your voice down was your acute awareness of the uptight landlord and your neighbors that were a little too eager to tattle on you. “You’re not entitled to anything, and you need to stop acting like it.”

You pulled open the door and did the favor of waiting until he stepped out before slamming the door in his face. There was a pause, then the sound of muffled steps walking down the hall. Even as the sound became inaudible, for a moment you stood there, staring at the peeling paint of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! It's been too long T-T But Crown Tundra is out and I've been playing it a bunch, so I thought I should post something. Hope you enjoy ^^


	12. [Twelve; The times you’ve been nervous was less than ten. Probably.]

No matter the personal circumstances, time passed and the next work day came. There was no real dread as you walked to the building. Of all things to be nervous about, a little squabble was not one you concerned yourself with. A part of you did eye your supervisor with suspicion though, thinking that someone might take the chance to prey on the situation. The meeting had been a secret, but who knew if there was someone watching?

Raihan was at some fancy gym leader meeting, so you wouldn’t have to look at his face. If you were lucky, the peace would last longer. Since you’d gone ahead and let him borrow the books despite butting heads, you’d have to face him at some point. You didn’t bother hoping he’d get the hint and stop approaching you. The man was incapable of doing anything you wanted and he wasn’t about to start any time soon. 

At the end of the day you stood in front of the stadium doors, keys in hand. You hadn’t thought the action through, walking up as you had done for so many times. For the first time, you gave pause.

Too much monotony was bad for you. The weather was sufficiently cool that day, so heading over to the Wild Area was a viable option. 

“Not going in?” a voice interrupted as you had made your decision to leave. You jerked in your spot, drawing in a sharp breath as you forced yourself to turn around, forcing yourself to slump as if you hadn’t been surprised. “It’s just me.”

“What do you want now?” your voice was low, and though you didn’t make any attempts to walk past, you didn’t plan on sticking around very long. In stark contrast to your usual outbursts, the heat in your voice had been replaced with the same tone you’d regarded the man that had tried to hit on you in the Pokemon Center from before.

Remembering the newspaper, left idle ever since Raihan had left, only made your withering glare more pronounced. 

Raihan cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to stall for time, though even then the gap between his words was inexcusably long. His eyes traveled the surroundings as his hand went up to rub the back of his neck. You graced him with moment of silence before giving a huff, starting to walk past. The scratching of shoes on tile sounded behind you but grew no closer as you clocked out. 

For a precious few days after that, all was quiet. However, this was not because you didn’t see Raihan. In fact, you ran into him more than you thought coincidental. Each time he’d open his mouth to say something, only for no sound to come out. It was to the point that you had to wonder just what he wanted to say, but the unpleasant memory of him walking around your house like he owned the place won out and you went on as if he weren’t there.

This gave you time to organize your own thoughts on the matter, though it was ridiculous that your interactions had grown to a point that they even had to be organized. 

Without anyone dropping by, your days were much less eventful. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but the anticipation of a new work day slowly dulled as things settled down, and that same lethargy seemed to creep up from behind. Training woke you up, as it always did, but what came after didn’t leave you much to anticipate. 

You didn’t miss the way your pokemon peeked at the door now and again that weekend, wondering what had happened to their visitor. 

There were glimpses of entertainment to be had each time Raihan approached, where his face would become increasingly twisted with every passing attempt. You pretended not to notice him creeping in the corners, but you noticed all the same. The stalking wasn’t much appreciated, but was a step down from those questions, somehow. 

Perhaps a week or two had passed until his efforts culminated into something other than silence, in the form of a singular ping on your phone.

It was seconds away from the end of your shift. You made a habit of cleaning the counter at the end so no one could fault you for hovering around, too ready to leave for home. 

Raihan appeared from the corner, made a point of taking out his phone as he pressed down on his screen with such gravity that when you saw the words that floated up on your own, you had to snort, despite not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He stepped forward as the clock snapped to the next hour, hands planted in his pockets. His head tilted as you composed yourself, putting away your phone.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’ve heard,” you said, and thinking it had been too curt, added, “You really can’t do anything without your phone, can you?”

Erm, maybe you should’ve kept your mouth shut. 

Employees passed by, all eyes on the sudden appearance of their boss, but none were brave enough to ask why he was there, wearing such an unfamiliar expression. The only ones they were used to were the curated ones that represented confidence when he won or frustration when he lost. This was neither. 

They lingered at the doors before realizing they were free to go, upon which they wrenched themselves away from the scene and went on with their lives. 

Your fingers unfurled as it became clear the two of you were the only ones left.

“Are the books too hard for you?”

He twitched at the question, half because he expected a greater struggle to keep up a conversation, half because you genuinely seemed unsure if he could read a book. 

“They’re fine. Well, I didn’t finished them yet, but,” he paused. “You don’t have to look so disappointed. I’m a busy person, okay?”

Sure he was. So were you, back in the day.

“If you want to improve, you’ll make the time.”

People had the strangest way of making excuses for themselves. They put off the things they wanted for things they didn’t, and that had never made sense to you. What was the point of being gym leader if not to become better at battling?

“I didn’t come here to argue again.” He sighed, putting a hand on the table. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

“You sure?”

“I don’t know what you think of me, but I don’t have any motives behind my questions.”

“Everyone has a motive.”

Just like you made use of the gym to improve and as a source of income, he surely had something to gain from digging dirt on you.

“Fine. I don’t have a _sinister_ motive. I’m just,” he stopped again, the words stopping in his throat. You nodded, letting him know to continue, and he pushed on with a new sentence, “Is it so bad to want to get to know someone?”

It wasn’t bad, per se, but it didn’t make sense. 

“You hate me.”

“We just happen to disagree on most things.”

Was he serious? There was no way he could’ve listened to the words coming out of his mouth and not find something wrong with what he was saying. People hated things that were different from them, and that was that. 

And yet you leaned into the words, knowing you were making a mistake to do so, as if they meant something, and that they could be true. When was the last time someone had put such effort in regards to the things you did? You couldn’t remember. 

As you folded your uniform and tucked it away under your arm, sliding from behind the counter, you watched him to make sure his expression didn’t change behind your back. Your own face didn’t have the same harsh lines as the words tumbled out of your mouth of their own accord.

“I don’t know where you got your information from, but I only have seven pokemon.”

Your thumb ran over your belt again, as you wondered if you’d made a mistake. Something akin to guilt pricked the back of your throat. Too late to take it back now. It wasn’t even a lie. Might as well see how the guy reacted, seeing how interested he was to know.

“Seven?”

“Seven.”

It was his turn to look like he didn’t believe, and for a moment you thought he might call you out. 

“Well, can I see it? The seventh one.“

This man sure had guts. 

Your head weighed you down and it took all your might to keep it upright, then even more to keep your eyes from rolling back. 

“Probably not.”

“So it’s not a no.”

‘When?’ was a question that went unsaid but resonated through the building nonetheless, but Raihan put a hand in front of his mouth and turned before he actually said anything. The corner of his mouth, upturned, was visible from where you stood. 

“How far have you gotten with the books?” You started to walk, and Raihan continued to follow. 

“They’re easier to pick up than I thought. Your notes help a lot,” he answered. “They are your notes, right?”

You nodded. 

“Don’t post any pictures.”

“Of what? The book?”

“What else would I be talking about?” you said, turning your face to look back, but he’d somehow managed to catch up with you. Or maybe it wasn’t surprising at all, when his legs were so damn long. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think about making some bullshit inspirational post, because I know you did.”

“What’s so bad about taking a picture? Awfully stingy of you. It’s not like it has your face on it,” he said. “And it’s not bullshit inspirational if I’m actually reading them.”

The books didn’t have your face, but they did have your writing. Your neat, print-like handwriting that rivaled the typed words themselves. In other words, it was easily identifiable. 

“Even if it was the case, it’s not like anyone’s gonna bother you, is it?” he continued, putting his phone under his chin, conveniently forgetting your almost-murder. “You don’t have social media.”

Of course you couldn’t have social media. And even if you could, it was a toxic wasteland there anyway. Your moments of weakness included the moments that you let yourself scroll through the sea of pictures and captions. 

His self-satisfaction waned as he saw the pin-straight line of your mouth, your jaw tense as you glared at nothing in particular. As you reached the end of the hall, and by extension, your reason to continue talking, he turned towards you as if to make some grand final statement. 

“You don’t have to be so worked up, I won’t post a thing. Promise.” He grinned, finally having found his usual stride. “You can trust me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“And since I’m on your good side now,” he said, giving you a wink, “might as well ask if we can train together.”

You’d expected him to ask at some point, but not quite so soon, and not with so much confidence. It was to the point that you had started walking in the direction of your home and failed to point out that he was still tailing you, despite his own being in the opposite direction.

If you were in your right mind, you would’ve refused. You should’ve refused, because you knew whatever plans he had in mind, it wasn’t one that included only battling. 

“Just training,” he said, starting to walk backwards in front of you, as if looking at his face might make his request more reasonable. “And no pictures.”

Even if the guy lost to you that one time, it wasn’t going to get much better than him, unless you found a way to coax out Leon from the Battle Tower, or Gloria, the current champion. 

You could always move to the Isle of Armor as a disciple, right? Plus it was quiet out in the island. 

Just thinking about being bossed around got your blood boiling. 

“Fine.”

Though you knew it was a win for both parties, there was a part of you that felt like you were admitting defeat as you agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well would you look at that. Reader's on her way to being a kind human being! Or maybe not, but at least she's improving...?  
> \--  
> I'm curious, how did you guys find this fic? Do you guys usually read reader-inserts? Personally, they're the only type I read, but from my experience it appears I'm in the minority haha.


	13. [Thirteen; Hot weather was the worst.]

The only reason you’d hung around the gates was to make sure you wouldn’t be blamed later for ditching Raihan on the first training session, but when he arrived five minutes after the appointed time, you had to say something.

“You actually made it.”

“Please don’t talk to me,” he groaned, rubbing at his eyes. They blinked in and out of consciousness as he stumbled forward, and for a second you thought he might throw himself off of the stairs. You grabbed him by the shoulder on a particularly uneven step forward and yanked him back to safety. He gave you a sleepy smile before waving you off, though you’d already retracted your hand long before then.

You started down the steps before you had a dead man on your hands with you as the primary suspect.

“Where are we going?” he asked, more alert as he took in the fresh air of the Wild Area. There was a shiver as a breeze blew past. A few degrees colder and you could’ve seen your breath. “This is why I don’t like mornings. You know the sun only came up an hour ago, right?”

“You’re the one who wanted to tag along,” you said, already several feet ahead. “We’re behind schedule. Hurry up if you want to get home before dinner.”

It was good that the weather was in your favor that day, since it meant the time lost waiting for Raihan to stop dragging his feet was made up for by the fact that you didn’t have to travel too far. When you threw down your backpack, his eyes took on a new light to them and he truly woke up as he released his team. Even before they had materialized, their glowing forms surrounded him as they fought for his attention. Before he got to petting them, your eyes met, and he smirked. Completely uncalled for. What was he even bragging about? That his pokemon liked you more than they liked you? That your pokemon didn’t crawl all over you?

There was dirt in your shoes. They poked around at the bottom of your feet, but you dared not take them off in case you lost control of your arm and threw them at Raihan. Another part of you felt like keeping them on and reminding yourself of the discomfort was a way to spite him, though the only person suffering was you.

Your eyes narrowed as you threw out your own team.

“So what are we doing, exactly?” Raihan said, motioning for his pokemon to step back. The group looked around the open expanse, sticking close to their trainer as they eyed your side warily.

You did suppose it was his first time out with you. It wasn’t like he’d ever seen you train outside of the gym, either. You’d gotten too indulgent with the air conditioning, among other things. But enough with all the excuses. From then on, you’d have to stop relying on the gym and train more like you used to, now that you were back in the swing of things. And as terrible as it was, you’d have to face the heat again as well.

“We start with warm-ups.”

—

You hadn’t battled Raihan enough to suggest anything specific, so for the day, he was subjected to your own regiment. He was particularly disappointed when you called your pokemon to run, mostly because he was expected to go with them. But of course he had to run with them. With the distance you expected to go, staying in place meant the pokemon wouldn’t be able to hear commands as they performed their moves while in motion.

For someone of his physique, he didn’t fare very well with running. You, too, were a bit out of shape and could feel a burning in your throat as you pushed your body to do something beyond jogging in several years, so you didn’t mention it between breaths.

Once you had made it from the city gates to a clearing in the woods, it was time for the sparring to begin. The trees provided a nice shade to stand under, so you were spared from the harsh weather that day. With the addition of a training partner, you no longer had to direct your pokemon at each other, and could instead face another trainer.

—

You were the one to suggest taking a break.

Raihan refused to back down and be the first to call it quits, and it didn’t look like his pokemon were about to stop him, so there was no choice but for you to save them from themselves. Besides, you tended to rest at this time anyway, since it got too hot for your liking. He gave you a smile like he’d won, but you weren’t the one that looked like death.

Your own team was let off easy that day. Skarmory even dared to bounce happily in place with Raihan’s Flygon as you called off the next round. A shower of sparks stopped their celebration and the two hissed at each other, before realizing that neither was at fault. The two pokemon looked up in unison to see Chandelure swinging around in the air, flame flickering wildly as if to make fun of the two. After a fair amount of scowling, both Skarmory and Flygon recalled their positions on opposite sides of the field and scurried back to their respective trainers. You did not miss the way Flygon slapped its tail in the direction of the chandelier.

Skarmory looked up at you with its head hung low, though you weren’t sure if that was supposed to be embarrassment or something else. There wasn’t any time to address the gesture, however, because you had your hands full placating a different pokemon. To be specific, an overgrown caterpillar tired of living in pseudo-retirement.

Scolipede stomped on the ground and waved around its horns with a loud cry. Your team didn’t think much of it, but the other group huddled closer together, as if getting ready for the pokemon to charge. It wouldn’t do that, not unless you asked.

You had expected an outburst eventually, but it was a shame that Raihan’s team had to witness it. As of late, you had been much too focused on Absol’s issues.

Serperior slunk beside you, silently asking if you needed its assistance. You waved the pokemon away. Serperior would only make it worse. Part of the pokemon’s frustration likely stemmed from the fact that you chose Serperior over it to help Absol out. You’d considered letting Scolipede help, and it certainly would’ve increased Absol’s abilities a great deal, but but the caterpillar had a penchant for going tackling everything with the same amount of burning intensity. Great for official battles, not so much for training. Serperior took things seriously to an extreme, but it listened to you in equal measure.

Serperior and Scolipede enjoyed battling the most, so the way things were going pointed to one challenging the other to a duel. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened.

The tantrum didn’t stop even as you approached. Your eye twitched. To think, you’d become a trainer that couldn’t even get a handle of her own pokemon. Even if it was battle-starved, such a thing hadn’t happened since you caught it as a Venipede. A part of you whispered that it no longer considered you worthy of its respect.

“Scolipede,” you said, without raising your voice, planting your feet so that you wouldn’t topple over from the shaking ground. You waved an arm to catch its attention until you were certain that you were making eye contact. “It’s break.”

The pokemon stopped moving about and lowered its head to you with a grumble.

“We’ll have plenty of chances to battle soon.” You put a hand on top, feeling the smooth carapace. Cool to the touch. “I promise.”

And at last, the pokemon quieted down, gaze lingering as if to confirm your words, before ambling deeper into the woods. At that point, the rest of y our team had scattered to rest on their own, or perhaps enjoy a bout of exploration while they weren’t tied down.

You sat down against the nearest tree, taking a moment to compose yourself before taking out a memo book from the bag you’d tossed onto the floor.

“This confirms it. Champions are insane,” he said, sliding next to you under the shade, letting out a loud sigh. His breathes were ragged and despite having taken off his jacket at the start of the session, sweat still dripped down his face. You were slightly better off, having experienced the regimen yourself so many times, but it wasn’t exactly designed to be easy. “And I thought Gloria was weird.”

His eyes lazily made their way over to your memo book, which you were furiously scribbling notes in about your training session that day. As you thought, you’d need some more pokemon. The seven—well, six—pokemon you had at the moment didn’t allow for enough flexibility. Even with the potential options you had with movesets, there were only so many ways this group could synergize.

Your fatigue faded as you pushed yourself from your slouching position.

“What’s her training like?” While you leaned forward, Raihan scooted back. Evidently, Scolipede wasn’t the only one a little too intense for everyone.

“A lot of running, being chased by giant pokemon, things like that,” he said, shivering. “Gets a little too close to actual survival if you ask me. Then again, she has two legendary pokemon with her so that stuff is probably child’s play.”

Hm, should you add Dynamax training to the list, then? You weren’t a trainer from Galar, and there wasn’t much reason for you to run into a Dynamaxed pokemon outside of the gym challenge or den, so the idea hadn’t ever crossed your mind. Raihan did Dynamax that first battle you had, though he hadn’t the second time around.

Obviously you didn’t have a Dynamax band of your own, but that might be the exact handicap you were looking for. You hand outstretched as you imagined what it would be like to have your own band. Did those things require you to have a license or what? Never mind that, could you even afford one?

“Zamazenta and Eternatus,” you mumbled to yourself, deep in thought. The coverage between those two was nothing to sneeze at. Besides those two, Gloria had a lot of strong pokemon. Obviously. She was the champion, and a young one at that.

If only you could battle with her, even if it was just once. It wasn’t often you got to face a legendary pokemon, let alone two at the same time. You inadvertently found yourself trying to think of a strategy against her team. You didn’t hop online so much, so you didn’t know all of its intricacies, but living in Galar meant that the information was practically shoved down your face wherever you went. It was impossible not to at least know her main rotation of pokemon.

You’d peeked at a few of her battles too. Her battling style was something, all right. Unlike Leon, she employed a lot more setup moves. Though it wasn’t immediately apparent, the longer her team stayed out, the harder it would be on the opponent.

In a way, Gloria’s team was the perfect counter to Leon’s all-out offenses. And while the man was still on the throne, most trainers simply copied the same style without much thought for anything else, so she stood out as well.

Ah, a real shame. The kid was probably super busy too. Since it’d been a few years, she had no excuse not to take on all the usual champion duties, even considering her age. Leon had done the same, after all.

But wait. You eyes flickered over to the man sitting beside you, who couldn’t hide his flinch when you suddenly met his gaze. His brows knitted together as he forced himself to maintain eye contact.

Yes, this guy was kind of important, right? And if rumors were to be trusted…

“What’s with that look?” Raihan said, shaking you out of your thoughts. “You look like you’re about to get away with a murder.”

“When’s Gloria coming? The Gym Challenge is only a few months away.”

“Bold of you to assume she’d visit,” he said, but when you didn’t back down, he simply sighed. “She’ll probably come to check up on us in a few weeks. Has a habit of scheduling rematches with the gym leaders every year before it starts.”

Your smile, which you hadn’t known was there in the first place, widened.

“That’s good.”

You knew Raihan expected you to pull some strings, but you weren’t about to kowtow to anyone. You’d have to come up with a scheme yourself.

“Stop being so positive, it’s freaking me out,” he said, to which you could only respond with a toothier grin. “But where are your pokemon? I didn’t see you put them back in their pokeballs.”

“They’re on break,” you said, gesturing with a limp flick of the wrist. “They’ll come back in an hour.”

“So you won’t leave a single Pokémon in the PMC to eat lunch, but you’ll let your entire team loose in the Wild Area?”

“It’s different.” For one, rich people hated getting dirty themselves, literally and figuratively. The Wild Area was big enough that you didn’t worry too much, anyway. A person could walk for weeks without meeting anyone else. “And they need fresh air at some point.”

There did happen to be something that was bothering you, but it wasn’t related to anything with Raihan, and you weren’t about to confide in the man any time soon. You had taken measures ahead of time, but only time would tell if they had been enough.

Amidst these thoughts was the sudden recollection of the day you’d first started training in earnest again. You’d fallen asleep then, hadn’t you? It’d been a while since you’d all napped together, it reminded you a bit of when you were traveling through Unova for the first time.

The usual frustration that came with remembering those days didn’t bubble up in your chest, and though it did ache a little, it was nothing so terrible. You snuck a peek at Raihan, who was busy lamenting over the lack of signal beside you. If you strained your ears, you could even hear him muttering pleas to the device as he not-so-secretly waved it around as if the gesture might change something.

You leaned back, taking in Raihan in his entirety. It was only then that he noticed you shifting around in the corner of his vision and he shoved his phone back in his pocket like he’d been caught doing something unsavory, giving a shrug. You held back a snort before waving your hand to let him know that he was free to continue his mourning. He countered by taking out a book from his shorts’ pocket, making a point of flipping to the center at an angle that was impossible for you to miss.

Well, you supposed he wasn’t the worst training partner. What were you saying? Of course he wasn’t. You’d never train with someone who you thought was a lost cause.

—

The minutes ticked down as the next hour approached. Five out of six members had already made their way back. They took after you, preferring to arrive a few minutes earlier than necessary.

“Absol’s late,” you said, taking out your phone just as the hour turned. The other five pokemon looked around, waiting for their teammate. Skarmory was doing its little dance again, though every time you met eyes, it stopped.

“Isn’t that bad?” Raihan said, standing up in preparation, dusting himself off before pocketing his book. He was a faster reader than he looked, and was already well on his way to finishing the entire thing. Then again, it didn’t matter how fast he went if none of the information stuck with him. You made a note to quiz him on it later.

“Obviously,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “We’ll give it five minutes.”

Just as you had decided on the time limit, Absol came limping in the distance, fur matted in a few too many areas and caked in dirt.

You met the pokemon halfway, kneeling down to assess its condition without a sound. It didn’t fight you when you put a hand on its back, pushing it into a laying position. Absol head was already hanging low in anticipation of a scolding, but feel even lower from the silence.

“So you’re going off on your own now?” you asked, noticing the pokemon’s grimace as you ran over what you assumed was a sore spot.

“Absol looks like he got into a fight,” Raihan said, jogging up next to you, potion in hand. You took it from him and spritzed the most obvious wounds, and the tension in Absol’s frame alleviated, if only somewhat.

“I’m guessing it tried to train on its own and bit of more than it could chew.” You pointed down to its claws. The right one in particular had splinters and bits of bark stuck between them. You flicked away one of the bigger chunks. Sucker Punch. “Even though I went through the trouble of giving it extra attention. I told you not to be so impatient. You think I can afford to throw you away or something? Or was the trip to the Pokemon Center that fun?”

“Your pokemon even train on their own, huh…” Raihan shook his head. Though it probably wasn’t a compliment, you didn’t feel all that bad about it. In fact, you were reluctant to show it, but you were rather proud.

“Of course. It’s one of _my_ pokemon.” You hid your rising smile behind your hand, not wanting to encourage the behavior in any of your other members. Absol, having been so stubborn in its early days of your travels, was always so insistent on proving its dedication to you. When you got control of your expression again, you put a hand on Absol’s head. It was a rare moment of affection between the two of you, so it took a moment for the pokemon to push back onto your hand in acknowledgement. “We all have something to prove, so you don’t have to go off on your own anymore.”

It was impossible to look at your own expression, especially in that moment where you were too busy delving into a proper lecture about battling protocol to Absol and the rest of your team in warning. But had you taken the time to turn around and notice Raihan’s reaction, you would’ve thought that the sky had fallen down.


	14. [Fourteen; You loved a good deal]

Morning punched you in the face as usual, pushing you out of bed as you ran away from the feeling that you had just escaped an uncomfortable dream. From the light, or lack thereof, it was easy to tell that you had hours to spare.

Maybe being an early riser was in your blood. You’d always been the one to wake everyone else up. Then you became a trainer and that meant the extra time was spent training, which transitioned into more time to dedicate to being champion. Now? You convinced yourself it was to take care of the gym, but it had more to do with the unsettling feeling in your stomach that forced you than anything else.

Shivering, you got ready to face the day.

Today you decided to stay inside rather than going to the gym. Rather than physical training, you thought it would be better to update your notes.

Sitting down at your desk, you procured the newest addition to your collection of notebooks, flipping it open to a fresh white page. You uncapped your pen and started from the beginning, writing out your current team and any strengths or weaknesses you had noticed thus far. The sound of the pen gliding across the paper was the only thing that disturbed the peace of the room for several minutes as you went on to describe Absol’s backwards steps and the journey to get it back into battle-ready condition.

When you were done with that, you leaned back in your chair, tapping the end of your pen on your chin. It hadn’t really mattered when you’d resigned yourself to only battling in cafes for a quick buck, but your team had a few glaring weaknesses. Fire-types would decimate your team if it remained the way it was, and you didn’t have any measures against them either. There were a lot of types you were lacking, actually. Your defenses weren’t exactly the best, either, though you could work around that. 

You reached over for your stack of books to search for an appropriate reference, thinking over your team as you skimmed through the titles.

Since you had two fire-types, Chandelure and Charizard, it would be better to swap one of them out for a water-type instead. The only question was, what? You made a note to check out what pokemon you could find in the Wild Area sometime. You’d need to stock up on Ultra Balls as well.

…or not, because you remembered the last time you went to buy Ultra Balls you were denied by the register because “you didn’t have the authority” and “ma’am you need to calm down” and “please leave the premises you’re scaring the children”. The children wouldn’t have been scared if the employees knew a trainer when they saw one. Unovan badges didn’t count for anything without an ID, apparently. And of course you didn’t bring that around with you anymore. It was probably expired at this point, anyway.

A loud knocking rang down the hall even as you were deep in thought. You jumped from the sound, scowling when you realized your pen had dragged across the page to make an unsightly mark. Tossing these items aside, you picked yourself up and opened the door, ready to defend yourself from pestering neighbors. What could they possibly complain about today?

Perhaps it should’ve been evident from the knock itself; it was way too laidback to be from anyone angry at you. Honestly, it came off as more of a question than anything else. When you forced open the door, hinges creaking as if threatening to pry loose, the only thing you were met with was the torso of someone wearing a gaudy jacket.

“You weren’t in the gym today,” Raihan said, bending over to make up for the height difference, or maybe to get away from the low ceiling. Either way, you didn’t like it. A soft rustling led your eye downward, to a small bag that he was hiding behind his leg.

“Bye,” you said, beginning to close the door. Before you could close it, he jammed his foot in the opening, giving a groan at the impact.

“I didn’t wake up this early to get treated like this.” He looked around the hallway as if his voice had been too loud, though it had been at a reasonable volume as it was. “Come on, it’s about the books.”

His words had an effect and you loosened your grip. Raihan took the opportunity to dislodge his foot from the door’s gap.

“Did you finish them?”

If this were a few weeks earlier, you wouldn’t have even bothered to consider his plea. Then again, the two of you had been on better terms since he gave you that clumsy apology of his. He didn’t ask so many questions anymore, so it was easier to tone down your attitude.

For a moment you were about to be pleasantly surprised, only to be disappointed when Raihan shook his head. He let himself in without asking, before he paused, then motioned towards the floor as if asking if he was allowed to pass.

It was annoying, but he did come all this way. If it was something trite, then he definitely wouldn’t have gone through the effort when texting was an option. Being the good host you were, you moved out of the way and let him through, closing the door as he kicked off his shoes. Clicking your tongue, you rearranged them neatly besides your own sneakers and followed after him.

“I wanted to return this. It was in the pile you gave me,” he said, turning around to hand over the bag you eyed before.

It was a cream-colored gift bag, an otherwise unassuming thing if not for the person that held it out for you. Honestly the fact that he didn’t use the gym-themed bags that you had too much of back in the main building had surprised you, but it was a welcome one. Those things were impossible to reuse without catching someone’s attention. Raihan extended his arm further when you didn’t take it right away, the bag swinging back and forth until you grabbed it from the bottom with one of your hands, feeling the paper crumple from your grip.

You tipped it upside down and a book slid out, one you recognized before you could make out the title. Unlike your other books, this one was thin, and liable to disappear into a pile without much notice. It was much older than anything else in your library as well, and not as preciously kept. The cover was creased and even had a sizable chunk taken out from the front page.

“Aren’t you a bit old for picture books?” Raihan asked as you turned the book around, getting a better view of the cover’s art. A pokemon embracing the moon.

“Is that all?” you said, setting the book down on the table. “Then—“

“All?” he questioned. “It looked pretty important. Can I have a drink?”

“I only have water.”

You poured him a glass and watched as he turned the pages of the book. There was a part of you that wanted to snatch the thing away, but you hung onto the pitcher.

“Huh. It really is just a picture book,” he mumbled. “Thought it’d be a secret journal or some blueprint to take over the world.”

Uh, what?

“I’m not that mysterious,” you said, slamming the cup down in front of him harder than strictly necessary, water splashing out from the force. In turn, you took out one of the canned coffees you had bought for yourself earlier that week, smirking at his reaction as you cracked it open. Downing it in one go, you crushed the aluminum once you were done. You wiped your mouth with your other hand.

Ah, it tasted cheap. Not as cheap as those damn poke balls, though. Did people not want business anymore?

“Then what’s this for? You got a secret kid or something?”

Again, what?

The can somehow didn’t topple even as you removed your hand, leaving it behind next to the sink.

You paused, drumming your fingers over the countertop, contemplating if this was really something you needed to be discussing with someone, much less Raihan. In the end, you decided it wasn’t a big deal so long as you didn’t make it a big deal.

“It was Snivy’s,” you admitted. “It had a hard time sleeping so I had to tell it stories before bed.”

“Your Serperior? Wouldn’t have guessed,” he said.

“No,” you said, watching as his lips parted in contained surprise, even though when you thought about it, the answer wasn’t surprising at all. “My first one. My starter.”

“Oh.”

The tact didn’t suit him. Being sympathized with was something you normally hated, but maybe it wasn’t so bad, coming from him. You preferred it to whatever fake confidence he exuded with his fans, anyway.

Your Serperior wouldn’t be caught dead with a picture book. It had composure from the very beginning. The two couldn’t even be compared. It was obvious that first Snivy wasn’t suited to battling from the start.

How many times had you found it slacking off in the sun? You’d drilled exercises over and over but nothing stuck.

“It was pretty useless,” you said, watching Raihan’s instinctive bristle. “Well, it did its best, for what it’s worth. And it wasn’t worth much.”

Yeah. You could probably count on one hand the times it actually executed a move correctly. The pokemon would turn to you, beaming as if it’d swept through the champion’s entire team. The pokemon would run over to you, perhaps trip from the excitement, brush itself off, continue to run. Then once it reached you, it would jump into your arms and you would be forced to hold on lest it fall back and hurt itself.

And the entire time, it’d be laughing. It’d laugh and laugh and laugh.

“We weren’t a good fit.”

“But—” You could hear the rising argument in his voice. But there was no argument to be had. There was a sudden heaviness in your head. Maybe you’d woken up to early after all.

“You’re a trainer too, aren’t you? You know how important all six members are. A single member makes the difference between a win and a loss.”

“It sounded like it wanted to battle for you, though.”

“It shouldn’t want to battle for me,” you scrunched your nose. “It should battle because it wants to battle.”

There was a contemplative silence as Raihan stopped the rocking in his chair, letting it slam back down onto the ground. You winced. The neighbors wouldn’t like that.

“Who did you trade Snivy to?”

“The breeder took it, for his kid. Said he’d never seen a Snivy so chipper.” You took the book back from Raihan, who made no effort to keep it. “I saw them playing in the yard, a few times.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I told you before. It’s better not to waste your time,” you said, taking out a cup. You poured yourself a glass now, not because you were thirsty, but because your hands were itching for something to do. You shook the cup, watching the water as it swirled around inside. “Besides, you say that as if the Snivy I got in return isn’t better.”

Your reassured appearance was restored at the mention. Serperior, then a Snivy, had clicked with you at once. Best of the bunch, the breeder said, but a picky one. It had rejected numerous trainers before it, before it met you. There was something to be said about how easily the two of you synchronized in battle, even at the start of your journey. As far as you were concerned, Serperior was your first pokemon.

Serperior, who had been a battler from the start. Even you had been rendered breathless by the way it moved in battle, more than you cared to admit. If there was any pokemon you thought was beautiful, it was this one.

This Snivy could sleep on its own, eat on its own, and play on its own, if you could even call it playing. Mostly it slunk around and watched other pokemon, absorbing whatever information it could find. Though, these days, you had noticed a more mischievous streak, playing little pranks on Skarmory.

“You say that, but you kept the book this whole time,” he said. Despite the glum mood that was brought upon by your story, he was, by contrast, brighter than before.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said. When he noticed your narrowed eyes, he quickly added, “I just thought it’d be nice if more people knew. It goes against your image.”

“Maybe it does,” you said, but nothing else. You probably should’ve left that book in Unova. It didn’t do much except bring up memories that you didn’t need. “Are you done with the questions? You should leave now.”

“I can come again, right?”

You sighed.

“You’re going to either way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OwO what is this???? wot is this ?????? 
> 
> I try to alternate between posting my two fics but I'm way ahead for brick fic so I decided to go ahead and do a double post aha (´ ∀ ` *)
> 
> I'm a bit early, but Happy New Years everyone! We don't know what's ahead, but I'll do my best to continue and post chapters :)


	15. [Fifteen; Actually, you had great manners when you wanted to.]

“What about a Gyarados?”

It was a suggestion on Raihan’s part, which he gave during one of your hour-long training breaks. At the start he would usually be found sulking from the loss of his battles, but as time went on, he followed your example and brought reading material to go over. Between pages, you’d notice him look up to see what you were doing. Thankfully, he didn’t bother you too much while you were concentrating. It was peaceful, even.

He’d been making decent strides in the actual battles as well, focusing on making a proper sand team. There were numerous kinks to iron out, but the battles were no longer something you could brush over. He implemented your suggestions quickly. Well, he was a gym leader.

“I already have Charizard and Skarmory as flying types.” You muttered, as you underlined an interesting passage. The book you were going over was one you’d read numerous times already, but there was always something to take away from it. You could feel Raihan’s gaze without having to look up from the page. “Work on your own team. I thought you were going to catch something?”

“Hear me out for a sec,” he said, gesturing broadly in the air. His book had long been abandoned and set down onto the grass. The words you that had drawn you in started to blur. “A Milotic.”

“You mean, for my team?”

“Obviously.”

You squinted.

“Do you want me to catch another serpent pokemon that badly?”

“It’s not that!” he said defensively, before scratching his chin. “I mean, it would fit the theme and all, but it’s not just that. They fit your image. Not the snake part. I meant they look scary.” He wiggled his fingers as to add to the effect.

“I thought you were supposed to be smooth,” you said, setting down your pen to look at him in disbelief. Absol, who you had barred from wandering on its own until it healed, also raised its head to stare.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to flirt with you.”

Hilarious. You knew better than to get riled up over nothing, though you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the statement. You’d quickly learned that such a reaction only fueled this guy even further.

“I want two weeks off.”

Reading books was great and all, but nothing beat surveying the land for yourself. Since you hadn’t explored Galar at all, you anticipated more than a few roadbumps. You didn’t even know what pokemon you were going to catch, only that it needed to be a water type. Not that you were against a chance meeting with some other pokemon, so long as it was strong.

“Two weeks? I know it’s the off-season, but damn.”

“I was going to ask for a month, but I figured you would complain about missing training.”

“I can train on my own just fine.” Despite the remark he hummed to himself in serious contemplation. He turned over to Hammerlocke’s walls, which could still be seen in the distance. “Remember that time you talked about that guy? The son of some rich man or whatever. The one who tried to kill you.”

“When your fans nearly raided us?” You paused. “Yeah. Why?”

“Why did you date him?”

“How’s that related to my vacation?”

“This is the only way I can get information out of you. I’m not wasting the chance and asking something stupid like your favorite color.”

Figured.

“Come on, I’ll approve the break if you answer.”

“His father owned land not accessible to the public. It’s a place where you can catch rare pokemon,” you said with a shrug.

“So this was another ploy to become champion.” He frowned. “You’d pretend to love someone just for that?”

Since when was he all about being romantic?

“I’ll do whatever works.”

—

Your two week break was delayed for mysterious reasons not unrelated to the fact that you were being called for on the weekend, cutting into your precious day of training. The gym was plenty polished, more so now that you had taken over the reigns in managing it, but you were tasked with scrubbing everything down again. Raihan had to be doing it to spite you before you went away, you could think of no other reason.

But when three pairs of footsteps came through the doors, tracking mud through the pristine tile all over again, your sharp tongue was momentarily rendered useless.

The first pair were from the gym leader himself, no big deal. The other was from that one challenger you could never remember the name of. And the last one…

Throwing your mop off to the side you hurried down to the pitch. The trio was in the middle of light conversation by the time you made it, Raihan presenting the most self-satisfied smile you’d seen in a while.

The kid was smaller than they made her out on television. You had to wonder if she was still old enough to grow. Or maybe you were on the tall side. Not that it felt that way, with Raihan around to tower over everyone decently-sized.

“Champion Gloria.” You nodded, taking out a hand, a gesture that was ingrained into you after two years of greeting important folk. You nearly took it away, never having been a fan for formalities, but Gloria grabbed your hand with the same confidence. Her grip was firm. Looks like someone also had their fair share of events.

“You never shook my hand,” Raihan said, putting a hand over his chest in mock hurt. “And you even knew her name. Playing favorites already, I see.”

But before you could retort, another hand was shoved into your palm and shaken with way too much energy to be considered business-friendly. Purple-hair kid. What was his name…?

Whoever he was, his eyes shone too brightly for your liking as he leaned in, waiting for you to recognize him.

Hex. Hog. Hob?

As the silence dragged on, the kid’s smile began to droop at its corners. You pulled your hand away.

“Sorry, I don’t remember the name’s of lose—“

“Don’t mind her, _Hop,”_ Raihan said, coming in between the two of you. “She’s a bit behind the times. Doesn’t pay attention to League news. She’s probably mortified right now. Awfully rude to forget someone’s name.”

Ohhhh. Hop. Yeah, that was your next guess.

“It’s fine,” Hop said, scratching the back of his head. His face was flushed, and he was no longer able to make eye contact with you. “You don’t sound like you’re from Galar, either. Makes sense you’d only remember the champion.”

“Gloria likes to visit the gyms during off-season to check how we’re doing,” Raihan explained. “Not a moment of rest. It’s a good chance to see each how each other’s teams are developing too.”

Team? Now that you were paying attention, Gloria was in uniform. Maybe that wasn’t saying much, considering Leon was rarely seen without his own cape and gym outfit during his reign, but a person like that wouldn’t go somewhere without being battle-ready. No champion would do such a thing.

“Did you come here to spar?” you asked, your lip twitching in a rare show of excitement unrelated to annoyance.

“I did,” Gloria replied, and her brown eyes widened in anticipation. The way her hand brushed up against the straps of her bag, getting ready to flip it over, there was no doubt in your mind. She was the real deal.

Your own hand was already at your belt, pokeballs trembling as your pokemon awaited the next few words.

Ah, you were getting goosebumps.

“Forget about Raihan. Battle me instead.”

Before you got an answer you had already chosen the pokemon that would come out first. No use pondering over what pokemon to send out; neither of you were familiar with the other’s battling style or line-up after all. It was possible Gloria had never even fought or seen your pokemon before, considering most of them weren’t native to Galar. Besides, you already knew which of your pokemon was itching to battle the most. Might as well indulge in the moment while it lasted.

Scolipede’s pokeball trembled under your grip.

—

Gloria exceeded your expectations. She was champion, you knew that, but compared to many others you battled, she had a real finesse to her. Kids often invested all of their team to offensive moves. Not the worst plan, but lacking in options. If the team was weak against a certain pokemon, it would be hard to make up for it.

“Dragon Tail.” Serperior swatted Frosmoth with enough force that it was thrown back into its ball. The pokemon slithered back to its position on your side of the field, not wanting to be caught unawares. Its head bobbed up and down as it caught its breath. Serperior was more used to cleaning up teams at the end rather than fighting on the front lines, but many your main attackers had been taken down already.

Gloria’s team had been reduced to her Frosmoth and final pokemon, which she had yet to take out. You didn’t have to think too hard to guess which pokemon it would be.

You returned Serperior to its ball, knowing none of its attacks would make a scratch. You yourself had yet to reveal your last pokemon.

It came so naturally to you. For a moment, you forgot the events that led you up to the battle, and you grabbed onto a familiar pokeball on your belt, fully intending to throw it out to engage in a battle for the history books. Your grin, which you hadn’t realized had ever formed, faltered at the sudden realization that this was Galar, and the remembrance of the past several years.

The rush you felt was replaced by a crackling under your fingertips and you forced your hand back open. Your mind was flooded with thoughts all at once, and for a moment it occurred to you that perhaps you shouldn’t be feeling the way you were currently feeling. In any other situation your mood would’ve soured immediately, but you were in battle-mode right then and that meant you didn’t dwell on things unrelated to winning. It was why battling suited you.

Your smile returned not long after as you called out your last pokemon. At least you’d be giving the invisible audience a hell of a show.

“Charizard, you’re up.”

Despite being newer, Charizard was a perfectly capable member of your team. Perhaps a bit unpolished in some respects, but the pokemon was more adaptable to your methods than most. You would’ve taken it out of the box sooner, if you’d known. Or maybe not, considering how much it hurt to look at a serious battle just a few months prior.

But look at you now, challenging a champion to an unofficial match. Even as Zamazenta pushed through the sweltering flames, causing Charizard to fall in a single hit, you didn’t feel anything but an unmistakable and refreshing vitality. Your pokemon struggled to get back on its feet and Zamazenta fell back to the ground, surveying its opponent, never letting down its guard until Charizard’s head fell onto the ground one last time. You called it back into its pokeball, stepping into the ring.

Gloria gave Zamazenta a congratulatory pat on the back, given an affectionate nudge in return. She coughed as you drew closer, the rush of battle subsiding leaving only the inexperienced kid behind. Her hand covered her mouth as she searched for the words to both acknowledge her victory and your loss unscathed when—

“Looks like I lost,” you said and she jolted before regaining composure. She noticed that you’d taken out your hand again and she didn’t hide her relief as she went on auto-pilot for the second handshake that day. Gloria’s grip wasn’t quite so strong this time around.

“Thanks for the battle,” Gloria said, putting a hand on her chest as if to see how fast it was beating. Now that you were closer, you could see faint trails of sweat that went down from her forehead. “It’s been a while since I had a battle like that. I didn’t expect to be fighting new pokemon today.”

“It’s been a while for me, too. I’ll have to challenge you again sometime,” you said, suddenly feeling nostalgic. “It was fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kalm


	16. [Sixteen; No one expected you could draw, but you could.]

You’d been in such a hurry to battle that you had forgone putting your things in the lockers and had instead thrown all your current belongings to Raihan. He had expected something similar to happen, and in fact had been banking on such a reaction.

It was tiring being on the losing end all the time, and he missed the sight of you being all mopey. Now that the two of you were closer, he thought it might even be funny to see you overreact again. It had been a while, but he still remembered that “sore loser” comment of yours. Gloria was too nice to say anything of the sort, but Raihan couldn’t say the same for himself. He promised to himself that the day he won (and mark his words, he would win), he would be sure to rub it in.

He and Hop walked up to the stands, Hop trying and failing to keep his frown in check, not that Raihan could blame the guy. He’d experienced you firsthand, too many times. It was made worse by the fact that you said it so plainly, as if it were a fact in some textbook, and how openly you flaunted your own skills. No one liked an arrogant trainer, not one with such little humor such as yourself. But perhaps because you also happened to back your attitude up with skill, it had gone unchecked. It was hard not to root for Gloria, who was the complete opposite in these respects. She had not once put down her childhood friend and even asked Hop to challenge the league again each year.

Still, it was impressive that anyone could sour a relationship with bubbly Hop within a sentence of getting to know him.

“What do you think?” Hop asked as he leaned against the railing of the bleachers. Not exactly safe, but no one was around so Raihan let it slide. “There’s no way Gloria could lose, right?”

“Of course not.”

The battle began as soon as Raihan uttered the words, and despite his previous conviction, as he saw Scolipede come crashing out of its pokeball, he had to wonder if he’d spoken too soon. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hop’s eyes sparkle, even as the kid was recovering from the wound to his pride.

It was one thing to know that you used to be champion and another to witness the fact. To think that your team wasn’t being swept by Gloria’s first pokemon was not a feat that most trainers could claim to do. This was Gloria, after all. Gloria, the girl who had defeated Leon at his peak. Gloria, who saved all of Galar from Eternatus, and had not one, but two legendaries by her side.

Skarmory, who Raihan remembered for the sole fact that it was a bit dopier than the rest of your members, worked in striking synchronicity with your commands. A large gust whipped up that disturbed the items sitting on Raihan’s lap, and it was only then he was snapped out of the immersive experience. Hop had not taken notice of the books that fell onto the floor.

Not wanting to interrupt, Raihan, picked up the books one by one, wincing as he noticed a bent page. He was going to be lectured later, he was certain of it.

Another blast threw everything back into the air and Raihan whipped around just in time to see Cinderace gigantamaxing. You paused to stare up at the pokemon and he wondered if you would dynamax in turn, before remembering that you didn’t have a dynamax band of your own. So even you could make an expression like that. Wide-eyed and impressed without restraint.

Before anything else could toss around your things, Raihan picked everything up and zipped the bag closed, when he noticed one last notebook hiding between seats. Despite the enthralling battle happening behind him, he could not help but take note of the bolded letters on the page pointing to a carefully drawn diagram, a far cry from your usual neat script. It was written as if you were too worked up to write more legibly.

Actually, now that he looked, the notebook itself felt rather fragile. The corners were a bit yellowed and this page in particular was actually made up of several smaller pieces, carefully reconstructed with the use of tape. If not for the shiny surface, he would’ve never noticed. He could somehow easily imagine both the image of you tearing up the book in a fit of rage (though he did not know what that fit would be about) as well as having the patience to put it back (though he did not know what would make you regret the action).

He peeked to the raging battle as if you might stop in the middle to snatch the book out of your hands and say something about invading your privacy again. But it wasn’t like he _meant_ to see the page. His hand itched to turn the page but he forced it back down.

That didn’t stop him from peeking one last time at the drawing before stuffing it back into the bag, unable to shake the feeling that he had seen whatever that building was somewhere before.

—

He saw it, he swore he saw it. Even from a distance, there was a flashing coming from your belt that he couldn’t make sense of, on account of the fact that you had no electric-types before he remembered.

_“They say it was a dragon.”_

Richie had told him that, hadn’t he? If it was a subject related to anything else, Raihan would’ve been hard pressed to believe the guy, but he was an absolute fanatic when it came to factoids about you.

Most dragons could emit electricity, but off the top of his head, there weren’t many that would be powerful enough to shock someone from within its pokeball.

Your hand brushed over the crackling capsule in a practiced manner. The smug and perfectly comfortable expression contorted for a brief moment, though it was quick to return as you quickly switched to a different pokeball, releasing Charizard into the battlefield.

Hop gasped. At this point, the kid was practically falling into the pitch, and Raihan had to pull him back.

He hated to admit it, but there was an undeniable stage presence you had in the way you battled. Your arrogance wasn’t completely unfounded, much to the chagrin of pretty much anyone who interacted with you. He had to wonder how they dealt with you when you were the person in charge and shivered.

Though obviously that arrogance was all going to come crashing down when you didn’t get the win you wanted so desperately. A part of him began to regret the decision to cheer Gloria on, maybe because you looked so genuinely invested in battle. Hop certainly wasn’t doing it either. You were alone in your conviction.

You, the person battling, was the person fans saw in their admiration, able to walk up to the pitch no matter how the wind blew in your favor.

Great, now he felt worse. Why’d you have to act so different now of all times? You were a lot easier to stomach when you weren’t so pissy, and it was messing everything up.

When the battled concluded with a victory for Gloria, faster than Raihan could blink, he braced himself. He had only seen you lose once, and the sight had not been pretty. What else was he supposed to expect, after the impression you had made the first time around? 

But there was no call for a rematch, not right away. You watched as Charizard struggled on the ground before calmly calling the pokemon back. The smile remained on your face. There was a faraway quality to the way you shook hands again with Gloria as you complimented her (complimented her!), a far cry from the barrage of criticisms Raihan was faced with every day the two trained together.

Gloria, who had been on edge after her inflated battle confidence was no longer in play, noticeably relaxed as she took your hand and acknowledged you in turn. Hop stumbled past Raihan and his footsteps echoed for miles before running to Gloria and giving her a big hug.

“You won! That was a chilling battle, mate. It really came down to the wire, I was on the edge of my seat the entire time,” he said, before peeking back at you.

“Obviously.” Ah, good to see your pride was still hanging in there. And people said _he_ needed to be taken down a peg. “Next time I’ll definitely win.”

“We’ll see about that,” Gloria said, grinning. “You caught me off guard once, but it won’t happen again.”

Hop no longer exclusively grimaced at the sound of your voice, holding a begrudging respect for your abilities.

“I guess she was a pretty strong trainer after all. Man, I wish I thought to record it.”

Good thing he didn’t. You would’ve had another fit for sure. Raihan also felt the inexplicable urge to run down but forced himself to take even paces down to the pitch.

“—would be a great subject for my research! Come on, please?” Hop was asking you with clasped hands.

“Hop, you want to dissect her team for a thesis?” Raihan asked, approaching the trio.

“I’m not dissecting them.” Hop turned, looking vaguely offended. “I just wanted to do some check ups, is all. What kind of training did you do? The reaction time between your command and them executing it was insane!”

Hop went on for a bit, eyes sparkling like a puppy that found a new favorite toy. When he got like that, it was impossible for people to refuse a request from him.

“No, we’re busy,” you said, unmoved.

Well, most people.

“T-then can we at least watch you train? We won’t be a bother, cross my heart!”

Raihan put a hand on your shoulder, only to be promptly brushed off. Right, no touching. It was a hard habit to break, when he was so used to being close with fans. Raihan refrained from mentioning this in his apology, though. He had a feeling you wouldn’t be sympathetic.

“Come on, he’s practically begging you,” Raihan said. “He has his own legendary pokemon, you know. You don’t want to check it out?”

“Not really,” you said. It looked like you were about to say something scathing again, Raihan could see it from the way you knitted your brows, but you closed your mouth and turned your head away before you could ruin the mood further. “Look, I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t take away from training.”

Hop gasped, barely holding in a squeal.

“That’s ace!”

“I’ll send you a text later, Hop,” Raihan said. “Gloria is welcome to join any time. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, for sure! I’m sure I could learn a lot,” Gloria said, tugging on Hop’s sleeve. “But we should get going, Hop. I didn’t think the battle would take this long. Leon’s going to lecture us again if we’re late.”

He did not like the gleam in your eyes at the mention of the name. He could see the cogs moving in your mind. You were scheming something, he could feel it.

The group said their goodbyes, leaving only you and Raihan in the stadium.

“Had fun?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Again, with that strange smile he couldn’t pin down. He’d never pegged you as the nostalgic type. In fact, Raihan was sure that if he asked, you would vehemently deny the existence of any sentimental tendencies.

“Would you have won, if you used that dragon of yours?” he blurted out, regretting it the moment the words exited his mouth.

But far from the sharp look he expected, your expression brightened. It was strange, because at the very same time, he thought you might be on the brink of crying.

“Obviously.”

—

You no longer bothered to turn away Raihan when he showed up on your doorstep. In the first place, he always managed to get you to cave by looking around, as if threatening to let himself be known. He was just joking, obviously, but you weren’t one to take chances.

It helped that he went under the pretense of books. To be fair, he did end up reading them most of the time, so long as they didn’t go over his head in terms of theory and jargon, but at this point he’d admitted to himself he just wanted to eke out another story from you, though his plans hardly ever panned out. It was getting easier to ask, at least.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to get mad at me,” he said.

“Saying that makes you think I’m going to be mad.”

“Well I said not to, didn’t I?” he said, teasingly, before taking a sip of water from his glass. It looked new. “Well remember a while ago you battled Gloria? And the two of you tore up the stage and we had to retile the floor?”

“I thought you said the League covered for the expenses.”

“No, I’m not blaming you. Just reminding you of the events surrounding the incident that you definitely shouldn’t get mad at me about on account that it was an accident and accidents happen,” Raihan said, watching your eyes slowly narrow. “So I may have accidentally taken a peek at your notebook.”

You groaned, brushing back your hair. Maybe you getting mad would’ve made him feel less guilty. But it really was an accident!

“And what exactly did you see?”

“Just a drawing or two. Of a building. Looked like a proof of concept, or something,” he said, sneaking a glance at you between fiddling with the glass. “And it felt kind of familiar.”

“It better be,” you said, looking somewhere between your two default expressions—smug and annoyed. “Gloria was invited to it this year, wasn’t she?”

“What?” Raihan leaned forward in his seat, but you didn’t say anything more. He took the hint and moved on. “Excited for your break?”

“Mhm.”

“Where are you going? You said you figured out what pokemon you were catching, but never told me.”

“You really want to know?” you said, raising a brow. Raihan forgot to quip in return as he usually did, still wracking his brain over that building. It was on the tip of his tongue, he just needed something to connect the dots… He must’ve looked distressed enough to stir something in you.

“Spikemuth.”

“Huh?” he said, looking up from the table.

“I’m going to Spikemuth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OwO nani??? Reader-san???


	17. [Seventeen; People had no idea what you had planned.]

[Seventeen; People had no idea what you had planned.]

Raihan was still puzzling out what he had seen in the notebook days after you’d challenged Gloria. No matter how much he prodded and goaded, your first hint remained your last. It was impressive how cryptic you managed to be with a personality like yours, or maybe it was his fault for assuming anything of your personality. He’d been wrong enough times to admit he didn’t really understand you as much as he felt he should.

Where was Gloria going? She wasn’t much of a traveler, not to places out of Galar, so it’s not like there were all that many choices. And Raihan severely doubted you would bother with anything not related to pokemon battling. The answer was there in the back of his brain, the dots all present and ready to be connect, but the order was still yet unknown to him.

“Sir?” Raihan was brought out of his daydreaming by an employee. Not a good look. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking around as if someone might jump her. “Were you listening?”

“‘Course I was,” Raihan grinned, and the woman froze for a moment, looking red in the face, despite her previous professional attitude. She was unable to look him in the eye. Somehow, he’d forgotten that this was what was expected out of people when he talked to them. He was an important figure. Hard to remember with you lecturing him all the time. “You said we have a new addition to our staff?”

“He’s a rather important figure so it would be wise to pay special attention. If we’re successful, we might get a new sponsor for the League. It would also strengthen our ties with Unova—“

“Unova?” Okay, maybe he hadn’t been listening properly after all.

“Y-yes, son of the former chairman, who stepped down a while ago. But he’s still a prolific figure in the circle,” the employee said, before pausing. When Raihan still didn’t say anything, too busy in his own world, she nervously continued, “I’m not sure why he came here. He was adamant that he be stationed in this gym specifically. Perhaps he’s a fan?”

—

It wasn’t natural how serious you were taking things now, just because of a few battles. It wasn’t like you could join the gym challenge anyway, since with how the system was set up you would be forced to become a public figure again. If they were professional at all, they’d end up doing a background check on you as well, which was another headache you didn’t want to bother with. Cameras could easily take you off guard if you weren’t careful.

Then again, if you were going to battle again, might as well do it properly.

Spikemuth was perhaps an odd location to try and catch a water-type pokemon. Yes, it was near the coast, but the area was narrow and the area was prone to shady characters. The buildings had likely reduced the number of pokemon willing to stick around, as well. Not so much the amount, but the black and geometric figures jutting out from the ground did not look like the type of place for welcoming folk.

But that was precisely why Spikemuth was the best option. You weren’t really looking for a Pokemon to slowly ease into battle, or acclimate to human life. Your team was in desperate need of a fresh face, and the quickest way was to get a pokemon who was quick on the uptake. Fans didn’t tend to come by this place either; you vaguely recalled that there wasn’t actually a spot to Dynamax despite the presence of a gym.

Who was the gym leader, again? Pears? That didn’t sound right, but it wasn’t like you ever got the names right anyway. Better not to dwell on it. Raihan had mentioned him once or twice but that was about it.

You could tell at once you were getting closer to Outer Spikemuth by the way the breeze changed from warm to cool, even from inside the tunnel. It felt nice despite the noticeable change in atmosphere, and even preferable to the heat you were often subjected to in Hammerlocke.

But even in general, you were feeling less snippy than usual. Having someone worth battling really let you get out all the stress built up in your system. The bitterness that followed battle ever since you lost your throne had subsided. You were closer to normal.

Perhaps a thanks was in order. Raihan would inevitably never stop reminding you afterwards, but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve it. The only problem was how.

—

It’d taken a few days to thoroughly explore the area surrounding Spikemuth, and you had pinpointed the perfect area for a stakeout. There was a very specific pokemon you had in mind. It wasn’t exactly common out here, but with two weeks off of the clock, there was plenty of time to search. In fact, you had actually seen the pokemon you were trying to catch, but from your observations, they weren’t going to be a good fit.

Other than what you came for, you did consider trying a hand at catching a Bergmite. For someone that despised the heat, you had a criminal lack of ice type pokemon. Probably because they had too many weaknesses, and towards common offensive typings at that. Much more practical to have a water type that could learn ice type moves.

It was while you were thinking such thoughts that something purple whizzed past your face. If you didn’t have the sense to move out of the way, it certainly would’ve scratched your nose. You wasted no time standing up and hopping away. The distance allowed you to see that what had been thrown at you was actually Toxic Spikes. Dodged a real bullet there.

The only species with Toxic Spikes in this area, and one with the guts to attack you head on at that… It was your lucky day.

“Scolipede, you’re up!”

—

Raihan really did have business at Spikemuth. So there was no reason for him to feel like he was invading on your space again. What, just because you told him you were going to be near Spikemuth for the next two weeks, _he_ wasn’t allowed to be there? As far as he knew, there was no such rule.

But as he approached the half-open gates to the city, he could not help but lower his head, preparing himself to be caught. His posture broke down as he stepped with more caution than he needed to. Your paranoia must’ve rubbed off on him somehow.

“What’s the high and mighty Raihan sneaking around sneaking around for? Not that it’s workin’, with how tall you are.” That gloomy voice was not one that could be forgotten. Raihan straightened out his shoulders as his suspicions were thrown out the window, sheepish about being caught trying to appear so unassuming.

“Piers! What’s a busy guy like you hanging in the Outskirts for?”

“Marnie kicked me out. Was busy trainin’ or something.” The man with striped hair sniffed, crossing his arms. “And there’s been some ruckus that’s been scaring the gym members, so I thought to go and check it out.”

As if on cue, a tremor ran through the ground, running through the soles of Raihan’s shoes. Forgetting his mission, he turned away from the doors of Spikemuth and into the haze that had formed in the distance. No one was around, probably because of the less-than-stellar weather, except for the one battling in the first place. He wasn’t sure if it was the outlined figure or gruff voice that he recognized first.

“Of course.” Raihan’s voice slipped into a deadpan without him even noticing. Piers shot him a curious glance, looking even more tired than before.

A pokeball burst from the haze, which had already begun to dissipate,a thud echoing as it made contact with its target, capturing it inside. There was a stillness in the air before it stopped glowing. By then, the rest of the fog had cleared up and left only you standing above a recently-caught pokemon with a satisfied grin on your face. It didn’t look disingenuous per se; you had no reason to plaster a fake smile on your face, but there was something about it that would’ve made kids cry. You were so absorbed in the moment that Raihan would’ve had time to escape without bringing attention to himself had he been a little quicker.

“And what are you doing here?” you said, smile dropping into its usual annoyed expression. It didn’t bother Raihan nearly as much as it used to, since he’d learned it was just how your face was. He did note that as you stepped closer to confront him, you did not once bat an eye at the lanky figure right next to him. It was flattering, in a way, but not many people could so easily brush over Piers’s appearance. There was no way a person could forget him after seeing him once, so you definitely didn’t recognize him for the ex-gym leader he was. Perhaps that was a good thing.

“Do you own Spikemuth now? I have business here too, I’ll have you know,” Raihan said, feeling oddly defensive. But he was right anyway. You had no comeback for that and instead picked up the pokeball, raising it up to get a better look, wiping away a smudge with your thumb. “You caught the pokemon quickly. What is it?”

In response, you threw the poke ball into the air and released the pokemon. From the domed silhouette, it wasn’t too hard to guess.

“A Toxapex,” Raihan said, crouching down. He couldn’t stay that way for long, though, since the pokemon made a jab at him. “Did I just survive a murder attempt?”

“You won’t die from that.” You snorted. There was an eerie similarity in the way both stared at him, and a shiver ran down his spine despite himself. “Thought it’ll hurt like hell for a few days.”

“You sure you don’t want to catch a different one?” he said, watching you sidestep a dangerous swipe aimed at you. “She looks…volatile.”

“No, this is the one I want.” You returned Toxapex to the poke ball. "It’ll be fine once I train it. Lucky I caught a good one so fast, too. I can spend the rest of the week training.”

“ _Training?”_

You raised a brow.

“Obviously. What else would I do?” You paused, which made Raihan hopeful for a moment, but all of that was shattered when you followed up with, “Maybe I should catch that Bergmite after all…”

Champions really were a different breed.

“You sound exactly like Leon.”

“Um. I’m here too, y’know,” Piers said, clearing his throat. “It’s great to see Raihan acting normal around a citizen for once, but you’re scaring the other gym members.” He winced at the look you gave him. It wasn’t unlike being served on a platter, he supposed. “I’d be appreciative if you could…tone down the earthquakes, at least. Marnie’s got enough on her plate as it is.”

Raihan looked between you and Piers, his chest slowly sinking as he realized something just a second too late.

“And who are you supposed to be? Some Grimsley wannabe?”

Raihan clapped his hands together before Piers could open his mouth. The ex-gym leader wasn’t the type to get riled up, but you had a knack for hitting people’s sore points. At this point he was pretty sure you didn’t mean to. Most of the time.

“This is Piers. Ex—“ He realized too late that his word choice did not bode well, and his voice trailed off. Both you and Piers stared at him to continue, and he apologized to the latter in his head. “Gym leader.”

The title seemed to at least be of mild interest, and you gave Piers a second appraisal, though you did not come out looking more impressed.

“…I was pretty close,” you mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shut Raihan down quickly. “So you’re saying the 7 th gym leader is training right now. She strong?”

“‘Course she is.” Piers said matter-of-factly. At least he didn’t seem offended not being recognized. “This is my sister we’re talking about after all. Better watch out next tournament, Raihan. She’s not gonna make it easy for you.”

Your brow twitched. “Sister?”

Huh. He had not expected you to be invested in the familial affairs of a stranger.

“Hm? I guess you don’t sound like you’re from Galar,” Piers mused. The guy was quick on the uptake when his head wasn’t in the clouds. “Yeah, my little sister. She took over the gym a few years ago.”

Raihan was careful not to turn his head as he peeked at your from the corner of his vision. As expected, you did not look very impressed. But was surprised him most was the skepticism in your face, though Raihan wasn’t sure exactly what you weren’t trustful of. It wasn’t like Piers had said anything out of the ordinary. He sounded like a regular doting brother.

Not that it mattered, he had a bad feeling about where the conversation was headed.

“Anyway, Piers. You sound pretty confident in your sister,” Raihan said, grinning. “But I haven’t been slacking either. The opposite, in fact.”

“He’s right.” You piped up calmly, though the statement was enough to break Raihan’s cool. He couldn’t help but turn his entire body at that, unable to believe his ears. That was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever gotten. “I don’t know who your sister is, but Raihan’s the one fighting Gloria this year.”

His face hurt, and it took him a moment to realize it was because he was smiling. Not the one he practiced in his mirrors for the copious amounts of selfies he took, but something else that didn’t feel quite so tidy. He hid it behind a hand, unsure of what to do with himself. This did not feel natural.

“A-anyway,” he said, and cursed himself for stuttering. The great Raihan didn’t stutter. And over a compliment, of all things? He was sent more impressive messages outlining his achievements on a daily basis. This was nothing. “I heard there was a tournament nearby. Since Piers doesn’t want you causing a ruckus, why not check it out?”

For once you didn’t ignore him, and you stared down the length of the tunnel behind the group. Of course, you had probably heard about it as well. Though you were adamant on being as clueless as possible, he knew you were secretly unable to help yourself but be drawn to any whisper about battles.

It was always battles. Didn’t you have anything else to do?

He supposed that was marginally better than being out in the wild. Still pokemon related, though. He wouldn’t be surprised if you whipped out that notebook of yours to scribble down notes.

“Are you going to participate?” He said, when neither continued the line of thought.

“I can’t,” you said, coughing. “I shouldn’t go. I’m sure it’s not very impressive anyway.”

Not impressive? It was one of the biggest if you didn’t count the Gym Challenge. Raihan was about to point this out, but held his tongue.

“Circhester is nearby…” you said.

That got his attention.

“You want to go?”

“Hm?” you perked up, and seemed to realize you had actually said your thoughts out loud. “There’s not much I would do there. I just thought the snow would be a nice change of pace.”

“Pretty romantic of you.”

Raihan made a note to himself. You liked snow.

—

Raihan couldn’t stick around forever, he had a meeting to get to. It was a bit insulting how genuinely skeptical you were that he had business in Spikemuth. What kind of person did you take him for?

The son of what’s-his-name was in Spikemuth. There was no particular reason Raihan had to meet the guy in advance, but what could he say except that he was excellent in maintaining diplomatic relations? Strange that the guy visited Spikemuth of all places, though. Not really a spot for tourism, unless you were into the whole grungy aesthetic. People on official business did not tend to appreciate it.

Other than the fact that the guy was supposed to be important, he did not leave a very strong impression. Not overly snobby as one might expect, but not charismatic either. Just a regular guy in a suit.

“You must be Emeric,” Raihan said, patting himself on the back for remembering the name. He was glad he asked the employee to text him the important details. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Emeric said. The two shook hands.

Their conversation was brief. Not like they had much to talk about, they weren’t even boss and employee yet.

Raihan did note that the man didn’t seem to look at him, despite making eye contact. His mind was somewhere else. So he didn’t come because he was a fan. Then why had he specifically asked to work at this gym? Surely there were more prestigious positions available if he was all that. Not that Raihan would ask such a question out loud. He had tact, unlike way too many people around him.

The exchange only confirmed Raihan’s suspicions that this man did not belong in this environment. Perhaps it was rude to assume such things on such a brief meeting, but Raihan considered himself a good judge of character.

“You must love pokemon, to come all this way to work,” Raihan said. “There’s a tournament being hosted in Hammerlocke, you should consider watching.”

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill of tournaments.” Emeric shrugged. “Once you’ve been to the Pokemon World Tournament enough times, nothing really phases you anymore.”

Raihan forced a laugh. What was up with Unovans and bashing a perfectly good tournament? Though Emeric wasn’t entirely wrong. The Pokemon World Tournament was one of the largest events when it came to battles. Despite only having cropped up a few years ago, it was on a completely different scale, with notable participants from any region worth its salt. A bit of a surprise that Unova, of all regions, was hosting it, but that only added to the sense of superior, Raihan supposed. Even Gloria was—

Gloria.

And the dots that had seemed so elusive lit up in quick succession and made the bigger picture known, all at once. The conclusion was a far-fetched answer. You were ambitious, sure, but were you _that_ ambitious? Did you dream big enough and did the skill to make it a reality? The audacity? It was a ridiculous thing, but he was certain the answer was yes all the same, and not for a moment did he think otherwise.

You were the founder of the Pokemon World Tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, I hope the chapter was worth it! What do you guys think of the little reveal I did there? I'd love to hear your thoughts :D
> 
> Rest assured, the updates may slow, but I am always thinking of my fics. No matter how long it shall take, we will make it to the end!


End file.
